


No man ever steps in the same river twice

by Slecnaztemnot



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20577095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slecnaztemnot/pseuds/Slecnaztemnot
Summary: King Damianos dies of old age, surrounded by his loved ones and family. His husband Laurent follows him soon after. However, instead of afterlife, Laurent wakes up in his teenage body, before the Battle of Marlas and its fateful events. Armed with his knowledge of the future, Laurent is determined to change it.But threats both old and new loom on the horizon...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.”
> 
> ― Heraclitus

„… The so-called Golden age ended with the death of king Damianos. The much beloved monarch lived to eighty-nine and passed away after a brief illness. His husband, king Laurent, aged eighty-four, followed him several weeks later. Contemporary sources claim that he died from grief, but modern historians speculate he caught the same illness during his stay by Damianos bedside. Their long and successful reign was followed by the reign of their son, king Auguste, who ruled in all but name in the last ten years of their lives. Originally named Temujin, king Auguste took the name of king Laurent’s brother after his ascension. While biologically a son of Damianos and a Vask noblewoman, Temujin was formally recognized and adopted by king Laurent, and therefore chose his ruling name as a way to honour him…” (From _Brief history of New Artesia_)

Laurent never much thought of what would await him in the afterlife. He didn’t worship any gods and while he took part in religious rituals, it was in his role of a monarch, not because he personally believed in them. Damen did mention the gods few times during his last days, though.

“Priests stopped by to give me absolution,” he smiled wryly in between coughs. “They say the highest seat awaits me in the eternal paradise.”

“Eternal paradise, you say? What would that be? Endless food, drink and revelry? Lot of naked wrestling?” At this point, Laurent was glad to talk about anything, just to hear his husband’s fading voice.

“Probably. But it won’t be a paradise unless you are there with me,” Damen whispered. Laurent clutched his hand.

“You will get better soon, Damen. Don’t worry me with this talk of afterlife…” Laurent said, but even he knew this time, it was a lie. Damen just smiled in response.

They stayed like this for a few silent moments, Damen’s chest rising and falling. Laurent watched it like a hawk, ready to call for a physician at any irregularity.

“I was thinking about my life,” Damen said. “It was a good one, I think.“

“Your ancestors would be proud.”

“I would – “ and the coughing started again. Laurent rose to call the helpers, but Damen stopped him. “It passed already. Don’t bother them for every cough of mine.”

“It’s a royal cough and they are paid handsomely.”

“I just hate the endless prodding, Laurent. Give me a bit of peace,” Damen said. “Where was I? Oh. Yes. I would prefer if my descendants were proud.”

“Your family loves you. Little Grecka has been asking for her great-grandpa every day.”

Damen nodded. “I have just… one regret.”

Laurent bit down the response on his tongue. Damianos’ face was serious, his look sombre and clear, clearer than it has been in days.

“I wish we met under better circumstances. I wish I could have gotten to know your brother. I wish I didn’t-“

The coughing started again and this time, Laurent hurried to call the doctors. Damen fell into a fevered daze and they soon called the rest of the family to say goodbye.

Damen didn’t speak again, but he still clutched Laurent’s hand tightly. Laurent chose to believe that his husband recognized their family in his latest moments.

“We will meet again in the next life, my beloved,” Laurent whispered.

He didn’t worship any gods and never much thought of the afterlife. However, there was a bone-deep certainty in his mind and heart – whatever form the life after death took, he would face it with the other half of his soul, or not at all.


	2. Here we go again

Last thing Laurent remembered was the pain of coughing and hotness of the fever. There was his little Tem, holding his hand, lines of grief in his weathered face. Sniffling and tears in the room. But Laurent was glad, because he would not have to face more mornings of his life alone. 

When he woke up again, the pain was gone. He felt light, like a feather, full of energy, the kind he lost many, many years ago. No old aches, lingering scars, nothing. He stared at the ceiling in wonder.

Where was he? He was sure he died, so… was this what awaited after death? 

If so, the ceiling of his afterlife was familiar. Not the one where he spent most of his adult life, though. This light blue was blue of his childhood chambers, the one where he played with toy horses and spent evenings on the windowsill, reading books till midnight.

He slowly got up and for the first time, took a look at his hands. They were… wrong. They were young, but… too young. Yes, the legends of the afterlife mentioned eternal youth, but Laurent always thought it would be around twenty, perhaps thirty. However, these hands belonged to boy of teen years, who was barely entering puberty.

He got up to check out his face. The mirror was at the place where he remembered it. 

What mirror showed was not unexpected, yet still unpleasant. It was indeed a face of perhaps twelve-year old Laurent, missing all the wrinkles. He even had a lot of hair! He took off his shirt and all his scars were gone as well. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it – they were part of him for the longest time and now to be gone?

The shirt was Veretian, the kind he didn’t wear for… well. Decades, surely. He put it back on, unsure how to proceed.

What would wait beyond the door of his room? Who would be there?

He carefully approached the giant door, only to be startled by a voice.

“Your Highness, are you awake?” 

He would never admit it out loud, but he almost jumped out of his skin. The voice reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place it. It certainly wasn’t someone from his family nor the attendants he used in his later years. And… he was called Highness. That couldn’t possibly be-

The door opened and a man in armour took an uncertain peek inside.

It took a moment for Laurent to recognize him. That was… that was Antoine. The young man who belonged to Prince’s guard, who fell during the Battle of Marlas. 

“Yes?” Laurent asked. He sounded so damn young to his own ears.

“You should be asleep at this hour,” Antoine frowned. “Prince Auguste was very firm about your curfew.”

Laurent stared at him; emotions stuck in his throat.

“You look pale… Did you have those nightmares again, Your Highness?”

“Auguste is here?” was what came out after a moment, his voice cracking.

“He is in his chambers, Your Highness?” Antoine was visibly confused. “You talked to him few hours ago-“

Before the guard could finish his sentence, Laurent started running. His feet took him around the familiar halls, the memory of the correct path hidden in a long unused part of his mind. He was out of breath when he arrived, guards near the door staring at him like he grown a second head.

“I… I need to see my brother,” he croaked.

“Let him in,” the voice said behind the doors. His voice. Auguste was here.

It was really him. Auguste was dressed in his nightclothes, yet still sitting at his desk. He frowned when he saw Laurent, worry creasing his beautiful features.

“Are you alright, Laurent? Whatever is the matter?”

Laurent tried to speak and found he couldn’t get a single note out. He just stared at his brother, at Auguste. Suddenly, the tears welled in his eyes.

“Laurent,” Auguste sounded alarmed and immediately rose. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” His hands wrapped around Laurent and the familiar smell of ink and horse stables attacked Laurent’s senses. He thought he got his tears under control, but the feeling of it all just made them fall even more.

“Auguste,” he finally whispered. 

The gentle hand stroked his hair and whispered assurances. He heard voices talking above him, but all he could concentrate on was the feeling of ... safety and rightness that filled his heart.

“What happened, Antoine?”

“I think he had a nightmare, your highness. Prince Laurent looked so pale, like seeing a ghost.”

“Well, forgive me for reacting this way when we are all dead,” Laurent said, feeling a bit prickly.

What met his answer was room full of silence and stares.

“What?” Auguste asked.

Laurent was a lot of things, but ‘slow’ wasn’t one of them. They obviously didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“Laurent, what kind of dream did you have?” Auguste said, his voice full of worry.

Was it all just a dream? How could so many years of his life be a dream? Or were these just specters of his past life, come to haunt him?

“You died. You fell during the battle of Marlas,” Laurent said quietly.

A shadow passed upon Auguste’s face. He squeezed Laurent’s shoulders.

“Laurent…”

“His Highness surely cannot fall on the battlefield,” interjected Antoine, trying to sound cheerful and failing. “He is the best fighter in our kingdom! No sword can cut him down.”

If he was still a boy of thirteen, this platitude would have assuaged him. However, Laurent saw too much of pain and death in his long life. Antoine’s words reminded him too much of young naive men, ready to take arms and go to war, believing they were untouchable. 

“That’s not how war works,” he clenched his teeth. “Even if his bladework is phenomenal, he can still get tired, he can still make mistakes. And our enemies aren’t from Vere! Have you ever stood against the might of Akielon Phalanx?”

“Laurent, did you read the warfare books again? Where did you hear this?” 

Laurent always remembered his brother cheerful, with a twinkle in his eye and kind smile. But now he saw him differently. Auguste had dark circles under his eyes, lines of worry etched into his face. He seemed tired and much older, like a man carrying a heavy burden, yet pretending otherwise for the sake of others. He motioned for Antoine to leave the room.

“I…” Laurent felt at a loss for words. 

“I won’t lie to you, Laurent. We will likely meet Akielons in battle near Marlas. It will be bloody and people will die. But you must have faith. We are in the right and we need to protect our people from their barbarism.”

It was surreal, to hear such words leave Auguste’s mouth. Laurent’s hadn’t thought of Akielons as barbarians for so many years… They were his people, his citizens.

“I have fought Akielons before,” Auguste continued, “and you are correct that they are a formidable force. Yet our mounted troops are capable of breaking their ranks. “

Laurent remained silent. 

Auguste sighed. “It’s going to be alright, little brother. Now, what about we go to bed together? We can share like when you were small.”

Oh, teenage Laurent would protest, saying he is too old to sleep in his brother’s bed, that he is basically an adult now! But Laurent of now could only nod soundlessly and climb into a giant canopy bed, curling next to his sibling. Auguste stroked his head gently.

“This really scared you, didn’t it? But no worries, Laurent, we can face all our problems head on…”

Oh, I am going to face them all right, Laurent thought. But first, to prepare a strategy…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several more chapters finished and outline prepared, so more should be added soon. :)  
I am not a native speaker, so if you see any grammar mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr - https://slecnaztemnot.tumblr.com/


	3. The Adversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with the issue of Regent and contains references to child abuse. I tried to write it as gently as I could, but its still a heavy theme and not all characters are decent people.

Despite waking at an early hour, Auguste’s part of bed was cold when Laurent rose. He ate breakfast at the table, only in company of silent servants who poured his tea and fetched pastries. His brother and his father were not present. The staff informed him they were having a council meeting and that he was instructed to find his own entertainment. That suited Laurent fine, for he had free time to pursue his own interests. 

The first stage of winning a war - of succeeding in general - was a good preparation and information gathering. Laurent sorely missed Damen by his side, to have someone to brainstorm his ideas and possibilities, to find the nearest and most suitable solution. Even Nikandros would do, or his eldest children, but he was alone. How could he approach anyone with words “I think I am either dead or fallen back in time”? They would surely consider him mad.

First order of checking was making sure his past life really wasn’t a dream. And what better place to check than the library? 

It did feel like walking in a dream, seeing places long forgotten and hidden in one’s memory so deep you thought you lost them. Laurent hasn’t been in this version of Arles library for a long time now.

He gently touched aging tomes and scrolls, picking them and putting them back. At last, he settled on a scroll of ancient Akielon myths. When he was young, he always admired the craftsmanship and intricacies of script, but was never able to read it, since old Akielon was quite different from the modern version. And his Akielon wasn’t even that good to begin with at 13 years of age, that came much later.

Yet, now he could read the words clearly. He easily understood the flowing descriptions of heroic deeds and tragic deaths. He recalled sitting next to Damen, showing him the scroll and Damen reading the epic poems with seriousness, his voice echoing in their chambers.

No, that was no dream - no dream could add knowledge to his mind that was missing previously. So what has happened? What this some sort of afterlife, seeing all his life once again? Or did he somehow returned back in time, his mind intact but body of his younger self?

It didn’t make sense and Laurent hated mysteries. 

He started going through books about mythology and magic, those which he usually read only for fun and not serious research. So immersed in his reading, he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“My dear nephew,” the voice said, “being a diligent little scholar, I see?”

Laurent froze.

He forgot. How could he have forgotten? 

Past didn’t meant only Auguste, it meant _ him _ . It meant _ him _ and Laurent wasn’t prepared, didn’t even think of _ him _ until he was touched. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. So swept in joy of meeting his brother again, so complacent in his life where _ he _ wasn’t present for so many years…

He thought he got past it, this horrible mixture of fear and anger and… something he couldn’t even name. He thought he had finally buried it after whispered confessions in dark, Damen’s hands soothing on his back. Yet nothing could prepare him for meeting that man again.

His first reaction was freezing. His second was a violent jerk, to get away as fast as possible. How he must have looked, eyes panicked like deers, mouth snarling and hands in Akielon hand-to-hand combat stance.

The man - for Laurent refused to grant him the name or any familiarity in his head - blinked in surprise.

“Laurent,” he said, his hands raised in placating gesture. “I am sorry for startling you.”

Wise choice would be to apologize, smile it away, not giving away his intent. If it was anyone else, Laurent would do so. He stared down enemy generals and manipulated aristocrats, played the games of popular opinion and won. If someone asked him what his preferred weapon of choice was, he would say that the sharpest blade in his repertoire were his words. 

But right now, he didn’t feel like the eighty-four year old king who ruled a nation. He felt like a thirteen year old child facing his greatest fear.

He remembered Damen’s smile as he taught Temujin to hold the sword. _“And what do we do when we meet someone much stronger than us?” Damen would ask._

_“Uh… fight as hard as possible?”_

_“Sometimes, even fighting to the best of our ability isn’t enough. No, what we do is we run away… and ask others for help.”_

_“But that's not honorable, isn’t it?”_

_“Your grandfather would think so! And when I was your age, I thought so too. But there is no dishonor in asking for help, Tem. Some things aren’t meant to be faced alone.”_

Laurent stared at the man, his hands still shaking. He was alone for the mystery of his presence, yes. But he wasn’t alone for this . 

“Leave me alone,” Laurent said, his voice full of venom. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again.”

The words passed his lips, those he wished to say to that face for the longest time.

“Whatever has gotten into you, my dear nephew?” he responded. “You used to love our conversations in the library.”

“Don’t talk to me either. Just… just go away!” Laurent shouted. The high note echoed through the library.

And inevitably summoned people.

The ones who entered were Antoine and some other man Laurent didn’t recall, dressed in the uniform of the prince’s guard.

“Is anything the matter, Your Highness?”

The air felt charged, like the tension could be cut by a knife.

“I am sure its just a misunderstanding,” _ he _ smiled, charming and polite. “I startled my nephew and he reacted quite… explosively. We are all on edge lately, aren’t we?”

“Don’t twist my words,” Laurent spit out. “I told you to not touch me.”

Both guards exchanged looks. If it was a servant or low-ranked aristocrat, they would have no issue removing the man. It wouldn’t matter to them who was at fault, only that one of them was of higher rank.

However, these were both members of the royal family, close to the throne yet not the heirs. Only the king and his heir had a higher authority in this country.

The short stalemate only took a few seconds, before Laurent decided to take initiative, taking advantage of the fact he took _ him _ off kilter. 

“Did you come to tell me my brother is searching for me?” he asked the guards.

The other guard opened his mouth like a fish, before Antoine quickly elbowed him. “Uh, yes indeed, Your Highness. You should wait for him in the stables, he expressed a wish to go on a ride with you.”

It didn’t matter whether it was true or not, what mattered was getting away as fast as possible. If the guard lied, he would tell Auguste as soon as possible, Laurent was sure of it.

He escaped to the stables, hiding amongst the hay and the horses. Regent never came there - maybe because he considered the place to be below him.

Laurent came to stroke the mane of his beloved pony, the one who died many, many years ago. If only horses lived as long as people… The pony neighed, searching Laurent’s hands for a hidden apple or a piece of sugar.

Laurent took deep breaths, concentrating on the smell of horse sweat instead of his racing thoughts. His heart slowly calmed down, his mind returned to its sharpened state. Its like he had thoughts of an old man, yet instincts of his own child self. Could this body even contain all the memories he lived? Would he start forgetting, replacing the once known with the old yet new?

“Laurent!”  
Auguste’s call snapped him out of his reverie. If it was possible, his brother seemed even more tired than before.

“Let’s go for a ride, Laurent, shall we? We have been stuck in these walls for too long…”

“Gladly, if you are prepared to be beaten,” Laurent grinned. He felts some of his previous levity returning.

“Oho, a challenger, is there? Do you believe you are faster than the fastest rider in all kingdoms?”

“Second fastest, because I am the first!” Laurent laughed and they both mounted their horses.

It truly did help to leave the suffocating chambers of Arles. Even in their spaciousness, Laurent never felt comfortable and safe there after Auguste died and the feeling didn’t vanish.

But the vast fields and the spring sun renewed his vigour. “What say you to a race to the pond, Auguste?”

“Bring it on,” Auguste grinned and spurred his horse to go faster.

How it felt to have winds in his hair and hear the familiar laughter in his ears. It drowned the raging thoughts and worries and Laurent only concentrated on the feel of the horse below him.

He did finish the race first, triumphantly finishing a lap before Auguste even reached him.

There was a look of astonishment on his brother’s face.

“You won,” Auguste said, after a long second.

“Of course I did, I always do! You have to admit that I am the best rider.”

Auguste recovered quickly. “Indeed, indeed, I have to bow before the best horse master in Vere.”

They dismounted and walked along the edge of the pond, close but not touching. Laurent searched his brother’s face.

He remembered him and Damen discussing the horse rides. Didn’t Laurent suspect that Auguste let him win? Yet now, it seemed, Laurent won by his own ability and not because his brother wanted to make him happy. It felt… strangely nostalgic and yet not at the same time.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, his gaze thoughtful. “I heard that there was some alteration in library, is that true?”

All the happiness of the situation vanished immediately. Laurent felt something heavy in his stomach. 

_ “What if he would hate me for this, Damen? He would be so disgusted and disappointed I…” _

_ “Your brother loved you so much, Laurent. He would never hate you, especially not for something that wasn’t your fault.” _

_ “But…” _

_ “You said that I remind you of Auguste. My first reaction when I found out was anger. So much anger. But not at you, never at you. I hated him, with all my being. I wanted to protect you.” _

“What have you heard?” Laurent said.

“You and uncle talked. There was some shouting. Laurent… did he do something?” 

A moment of truth, then.

“He touched me,” Laurent said. He wanted to elaborate, but before he could finish the sentence, a stormcloud appeared on his brother’s face.

“He touched you,” Auguste repeated. He sounded calm, yet not. If the same words were uttered by Damen in this tone, Laurent would prognose an early death of person in question.

“I told him not to and he -”

“Of course he did. I can’t believe I - Never mind. Laurent, we must go see our father immediately.” Auguste said, his voice breaking no argument.

Laurent expected a lot of reactions. He braced himself for disbelief, for long explanations and defensiveness. He waited for “he is your uncle, he surely wouldn’t!”

What he got was stony silence and a face full of rage. 

The return home was awkward, to say at least. Laurent didn’t know what to expect and the expression his brother wore wasn’t one that encouraged discussion.

Auguste took him to the King’s rooms immediately. They were less known to Laurent than other parts of the palace - he rarely visited his father as a child and when the rooms were rightfully his, he chose a different city to reign from. 

His father was frowning over military maps with his retainers, discussing some strategy or other, moving pieces representing troops. 

“Father,” Auguste said. The tone made Aleron raise his head.

“Leave us,” Aleron said.

Laurent didn’t remember his father much. He was never close to the man. He was, after all, only the spare. It was his mother who spoiled him, his brother who taught him how to ride a horse and told him fairytales before sleep. These activities were beyond Aleron’s kingly notice.

Laurent sometimes wondered if it was because of his looks - Laurent mostly took after his mother, both in coloring and height. Aleron’s mousy brown hair and his beard starkly contrasted with the golden halo both his sons sported, but Auguste shared his nose and his eyebrows. Although, didn’t Damen once said that Laurent had the same sharp eyes as Aleron, based on the king’s portrait in Arles gallery?

Either way, there was no love lost between the two of them and Laurent didn’t shed many tears when he learned of his father’s death on the battlefield. It was the distant type of sorrow, the one where you feel guilty for not feeling sad enough. Truth was, Laurent missed Aleron because of the immediate political situation that followed his death, but the personal angle was just not there. No, all those tears were reserved for Auguste.

Aleron and Auguste were watching each other, like a two enemy soldiers circling on the battlefield.

“Is something the matter? I am quite busy, as you well know,” Aleron said, irritation creeping in his voice.

“When is it going to be enough?” Auguste hissed. “He touched Laurent this time! Are your excuses for his political gain more important than well-being of your children?”

Aleron sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, while Laurent felt something stuck in his throat.

“We had this discussion many times, Auguste, why do you keep bringing this up when you know my answer? I need his political maneuvering. And if some peasant’s kid ends up as his pet, so what? He treats them with money and their parents agree.”

“Didn’t you hear me? He touched Laurent! His own nephew!”

“I am sure that it was innocent and Laurent is just exaggerating. Children of his age do so love their lies and made-up stories to be interesting and pampered.”

It felt like being doused with cold water. Oh yes, a part of Laurent expected, even feared this reaction. Yet hearing it from your own father’s mouth was different.

The clouds on Auguste’s face grew even stormier. “Like I did? If our mother didn’t step in, you would have just swept it under the rug! Now it's happening again and the best you can do is bullshit about politics and lying children?”

“You don’t understand-”

“Oh, I understand plenty.”

The silence that followed was one of the heaviest Laurent has ever took part in. He felt his head swimming with the new information, the horrible revelation lurking beneath. Happening again? Did this… happen to Auguste too? 

And there was anger as well. It was one thing to believe that his uncle was cunning and hid his preferences well, only to present them when he was the most powerful man in the country and there was nobody left to object. But to know this all happened with his father’s knowledge, his approval even! That many people knew and nobody did anything, because it suited them better.

“So that’s it?” Laurent asked, quite calmly. “You are not going to punish him in any way?”

“What would you have me do?” Aleron said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “Perhaps a slap on the wrist?”

“In Akielos,” Laurent said, “they chop off the hand of those who touch children in this way.”

Augusted looked at him with surprise, while Aleron gaped.

“Those barbarians are-”

“They are more civilized than us, since they deal with the problem instead of letting a viper stay in their midst. Do you think he is one of those who are content with playing second fiddle, following the others of their superiors? He showed you he doesn’t care about the well-being of his nephews, why do you think he cares about you being his brother?”

“Laurent, that’s enough!” Aleron shouted, using his name for the first time.

But Laurent wasn’t done. “You don’t negotiate with predators, they might slow down their hunt, yet they will still eat you in the end. You are a fool if you think you can control him.”

“I think you forget your place,” Aleron said. “I am still the king and you will not speak to me in this way!”

“With the way you are ruling, you won’t be one for long.”

“Are you threatening me?” Aleron obviously couldn’t believe his ears and Auguste stood there, looking stunned. 

“With what? Truth?”

“Laurent, let's calm down, please… I understand you are angry, but surely-” Augusted was silenced by a single look from his brother.

“I am done. Keep to your battleplans, Your Majesty, they won’t help us win anyway.”

Laurent left the room, ignoring the looks guards gave him. Stomping, he returned to his chambers, feeling out of breath and out of sorts. Did he just really shout at his father? The man did deserve it, but it wasn’t a very smart decision. Laurent sighed. Not that he made many of those recently.

To his surprise, Auguste appeared in the doorway, looking pained.

“Laurent,” he said.

Usually, when Laurent left in a huff, Auguste gave him some time to cool down. Not this time, it seemed.

“Laurent, what has gotten into you?” Augusted asked, sitting next to him on the bed. “You are usually not so… forward.”

“I am just sick of this all,” Laurent admitted.

“Is this because of the nightmare? You seem so different since you had it, like…”

“What do you think will happen when - if you die? And father as well?”

“Uh. Well, I mean, you are in a line of succession, of course-”

“But I am thirteen. I cannot be crowned till twenty-one.”

“The regents are usually installed until the heir comes of age. It happened a few times in history. Usually some high-positioned noble or family memb…”

Auguste stared at him.

“They would pick _ him_, of course. Isn’t he the brother of our fallen king? Isn’t he well-mannered and well-spoken, good with politics? He obviously loves his nephew, spends so much time with him!” Laurent repeated the words he remembered hearing many times.

“Laurent, that’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know? Battles are dangerous, anything can happen. I won’t die, because you won’t let me into the battlefield. And he doesn’t go on frontlines either, he is a negotiator, not a soldier. Not like you are…”

Auguste hugged him, but it was obvious he lacked for words. They stayed like this for a few moments.

There was one more thing nagging on Laurent’s mind.

“Brother… did he really touch you too? Why didn’t you say something?”

Auguste sighed, his brows furrowing.

“I was about ten or so at the time, you weren’t even born yet. He… didn’t do anything much untoward, mostly touching my thighs and, well, it made me uncomfortable. I complained to our mother and she raised hell. In the end, Father decided I was making too much fuss and only took away some of his holdings as punishment and made him swear to only touch pets.”

“That’s… horrible. How come I have never heard about it?”

“It was all done in private. Other nobles had an inkling that uncle did some transgression, but it was never publicly stated what it was. Father said it would create a stain on our reputation.”

Auguste looked him in the eyes, full of sorrow.

“I should have warned you, my dear Laurent. But I was scared… and ashamed. I wanted to forget it all and I hoped he would follow my father’s instructions. In a way, I did the same mistake our father did.”

Laurent shook his head. “You believed me.”

“I am sorry. I am sorry this all happened, that it happened to you as well. I should have done more, I should have protected you.”

Laurent felt the tears in his eyes. He remembered a few times he came to weep on his brother’s grave, hurling accusations. Why didn’t you protect me? Why did you have to die? Why did you leave me all alone?

“I am a horrible older brother, I am afraid.”

“You aren’t,” Laurent said. “You are human.” Auguste wasn’t a golden beacon of perfection, a balm to all his worries and solution to all his problems, no matter how much the child in Laurent wanted to cling to that idea. 

“We are going to deal with this, Auguste.” Together, this time. “We are going to be okay.” Because Laurent won’t allow any other outcome. It was his turn to protect his brother now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read several different takes on the issue of Regent vs Auguste and this one is mine.  
Question for my readers: How do you think Regent should die? Feel free to describe his painful death in comments.


	4. The Battle of Marlas

The Battle of Marlas was drawing closer and the capital was in a middle of frenzied preparation for the campaign. Nobody had much time for Laurent and he finally found time to think, to strategize properly and to plan. Without any emotional interruptions.

He found a quiet place in the garden, where nobody would think to search for him. Laurent of past disliked outside and hid mostly in his chambers or library. But the life after changed his habits and he came to appreciate the shade of trees and coolness of fresh air. 

The book research did bear fruit. While Veretian stories were quiet on the subject, he found some myths from Akielos which spoke of similar occurrences. Two were most similar. One, about a tragic hero who had done his utmost to change his fate, only for fate to turn everything back as it was before. Laurent supposed it was meant as a cautionary tale of some sorts, but it didn’t bring him much optimism. Another legend was more of a fairy tale - about star-crossed lovers who met as enemies and who could only fulfil their love when gods gave them a chance again. It ended on a happier note, but it also used a lot of gods’ intervention as a plot device. Still, Laurent hoped his second chance would be more like the latter, not the former story.

There was still a question in his mind - would he be able to change the course of fate? The first story implied that some things were inevitable. If he managed to stay Damianos’ blade, would a stray arrow shoot through Auguste’s heart?

But he did change some small parts of this world already. He acted out of character, as noted by Auguste. The conversation with his father definitely didn’t happen when he was a teenager - they didn’t talk at all in that time before battle happened.

Yes, his… father. He had a pretty concrete plan when it came to saving his brother’s life. Oh, there were a few variables, but the end result was a pretty straightforward one. He knew what he had to do to save Auguste’s life.

On the other hand, the fate of Aleron was… tricky. Laurent knew who murdered him and who ordered the murder, naturally. However, he was in a precarious position. He couldn’t go against Regent publicly. He didn’t have any concrete proof and talks of “i saw it in a dream” would only get him laughed at. As for removing the assassin himself, Laurent was pretty sure that he wasn't the only one, just the one who managed the shot. His uncle also planned with variables and likely had several soldiers prepared to the deed for him. 

What else could be done? He could warn his father, which he did. Not directly, but his father wasn’t an idiot. 

The problem was, Laurent didn’t particularly felt like protecting Aleron anyway. When he first appeared in the past, there was some half-hearted notion to save Aleron as well. But then he thought about the implication.

It would mean Aleron stayed as a king, for many years possibly. The man who sheltered his uncle, who thought of Akielons as barbarians, who treated Laurent as a spare afterthought. Damen once told Laurent he wished he could have asked for permission to court him from his father, but the same thought was not adorable now, when faced with the real possibility of it.

Not that it was a certainty that there would be even any courting. That Damen would give him time of his day. But no, he must not dwell on that thought. 

It was obvious that Aleron as a king meant that the future of both Vere and Laurent himself was in jeopardy. The simmering anger Laurent felt from their confrontation hasn’t quieted down. He never held many illusions about his father’s kingship, he always knew Aleron to be pragmatic and conservative man, but sheltering his uncle was unthinkable. He thought of Nicaise, of Ameiric, of all the other boys who suffered. If Aleron remained the king, they would have no protection, no recourse, nothing. Even if Laurent removed Regent as soon as possible, if Aleron was capable of this, who else was he protecting? Laurent remembered too many nobles with their horrible vices and treatment of lower class, men like Guion and his slimy ambitions.

Laurent of thirteen years old could never do it. Laurent of twenty and one would struggle with it. However, Laurent lived many years and his kingship meant many harsh and cruel decisions were made. He tried to be always fair, always kind. But sometimes… sometimes.

Aleron refused to lift a finger to protect his sons, to protect the people of his country. Laurent decided to not protect him in turn. Let the courses of fate take him.

Laurent sighed and watched his hands. He missed Damen so badly. He got used to a near-constant presence of his husband, especially in later years. As they got older, they left more and more duties to Tem and his advisors and took care mostly of the ceremonial parts of their station. They finally had time for themselves, yet it still didn’t feel enough. And now, he was alone.

He wondered what was the Damen of this world like. Would he also remember? Or was Laurent the only one who did? Would their love be same? Or would Damen prefer someone else, someone without memories of past lives in his head? Maybe this time, Jokaste would be the queen…

He shook his head wildly. He was thinking ahead too much, he needed to concentrate on the presence.

He decided to go train his sword arm. His mind remembered all the sword moves and maneuvers, how to stand and breathe, how to feign and confuse the opponent. But his body was behind, his muscles untrained and protesting when he used them in new ways. He needed to prepare if he wanted his plan on battlefield succeed. 

***

The battlefield was same as he remembered. There was chaos, blood and smoke.

Auguste rode out with a determined look in his eyes and made Laurent promise to stay behind in the tents. Laurent solemnly promised he would and urged Auguste to be careful. Then, as soon as Auguste left, Laurent went to follow. Just like the last time, really.

Only this time, there wasn't any fear in his heart, only determination.

He saw Kastor on the horse, sweaty and shouting orders. He saw Auguste, keeping the line together and inspiring his men. He saw soldiers marching and meeting again and again in the clash of swords. he saw archers preparing their arrows and loosing them on the battlefield. He wondered where his father was…

But he had a mission to carry out and he had to get there.

Then, he saw him. 

Damianos.

Damen.

He was riding, his helmet shining in the evening sun.

Damen dismounted and he and Auguste were talking. Laurent couldn’t hear their voices over the noise of the battlefield and he crawled closer. 

They took out their swords, first experimental strokes exchanged. Auguste was obviously tired, breathing heavily, yet still managing to parry. Damen was… It felt unreal, seeing him so young. His face without the wrinkles, without scars he accrued in later years. 

However, there was something about his bladework that felt familiar. 

Laurent squashed the tiny seed of hope, because he needed to focus right now. The plan was simple and he was sure it would work no matter what kind of Damen stood in front of him.

Damen would never harm a child.

If Laurent was asked later, he would never admit it, but he did prepare this maneuver before attempting it. Thankfully, due to his grace, it looked quite natural when he threw himself between the two fighters at just the right moment.

Two voices rang at once, both with alarm.

“Laurent?!” Auguste shouted, his voice full of worry and confusion.

“Laurent?” Damen sounded… surprised.

He was sure that Damen of old didn’t know how younger Veretian prince looked like, especially now. Laurent was covered in filth and blood, crawling through the field to reach this spot. Yet Damen recognized him immediately…

“Take me instead!” Laurent shouted. “Don’t hurt my brother!”

“Laurent, don’t!”

It wasn’t a particularly honorable solution, but Laurent didn’t give a crap about honor if it meant saving Auguste’s life. He launched himself at Damen in an attempt to topple him. Instead, Damen, with a long-born instinct, let go of his sword and caught him.

Of all the silences, the awkward one that now reigned was much better than the tragic one. 

Surprisingly, it was Damianos who reacted the fastest. 

“I seem to have a hostage,” he said, in a perfect Veretian. Auguste looked absolutely panicked.

“I thought you were honorable, Damianos,” he said, shaking. “My brother is but a child, he doesn’t understand these matters…”

“I understand enough! Auguste, he was going to kill you! You are tired and he is great with the sword!”

“I wasn’t actually planning on-” Damen said quietly, but was immediately interrupted by Auguste. 

“If so, be it! Laurent, people die in the war, I-”

“So after all that talk, you are willing to leave me alone? With  _ him _ ?”

Augusted gaped like a fish and Damen took opportunity to speak.

“As I said, hostage. If you want your brother back, cease the hostilities and come to negotiate.”

“My father-”

“Aren’t you the king now? Our messengers say your father fell.”

Laurent felt something in his heart, and didn’t know what. He squeezed Damen more and he could feel Damen discreetly squeezing him back.

“Go. I might be honorable but there are some on my side who would harm a child to win this war.”

Auguste gathered his sword, his hands shaking. 

“On your word that you will not hurt Laurent?”

“I promise it with all my heart, on the honor of my ancestors.”

“If you do, I will find you and kill you, no matter-”

“Just go, Auguste! Go talk to the council.” Laurent said.

Turning his head every few moments, Auguste slowly disappeared amongst the tents of Veretian encampment. 

“Damen?” Laurent whispered.

“Laurent. What would Nik say, if he saw such a pitiful attempt of wrestling?”

Laurent grinned. It was all like all his worries has vanished. They were together, ready to take upon the world again.

“In my defense, I have much shorter hands and legs than when he taught me,” Laurent laughed and squeezed Damen again. Then, his husband carefully lowered him down.

For a moment, they remained in their own private world. Damen gently touched his hair and Laurent felt as if his heart would burst any moment.

“We need to talk,” Laurent said, switching from Veretian to one of the tribe dialects from remote part of Vask. He knew Damen could speak it - they learned it together when Tem’s maternal grandmother was visiting.

“Let’s get you to our camp first,” Damen replied in turn. “I had… I had hoped I it would be you, it was like that in the fairy tale. But I wasn’t sure. I was thinking about how to go about sparing Auguste without ruining his honor, then you appeared.”

“I know what fairy tale you mean. I was worried that my presence here would follow the lines of Akielos tragedies, but Auguste is alive so far.”

“Laurent, I am sorry about your father.”

Laurent shook his head. “Let’s speak of this later.” He wasn’t sure if he could talk about it without bursting into tears in front of his husband. 

Slowly, they headed to the Akielon encampment.

“My father probably believes you only speak Veretian,” Damen noted.

“Well, if I was truly thirteen years old, he wouldn’t be wrong. I learned the basics of Akielon later.”

Damen nodded. “Just let me talk. I have a plan on how to deal with this. Trust me.”

“Always,” Laurent smiled.

***

Surrounded by many Akielon soldiers, Damen and Laurent walked in silence. Damen had a hand on Laurent’s back and gently guided him to the correct tent. Unlike with Veretians, who took pains to distinguish just who exactly lived in which tent, Akielon tents were all very similar. Practical and easy to build.

Theomedes and Kastor were already waiting. The king was reclining in his chair, thoughtfully stroking his beard. Kastor was sluicing himself with water from basin which was carried by a slave.

Laurent finally had an opportunity to compare theirs and Damen’s looks. He has never seen Theomedes in person before and his and Kastor’s acquaintance was… short, to say at least. Even though Kastor and Damen were half-brothers, they shared many similar features. The proud nose, the color of their hair, the shape of their chin - it was all inherited from their father. What Kastor lacked and Damen had were the dimples in his face. Kastor also seemed more lean and angular than Damen, who filled the room with his mere presence, even at the age of seventeen.

Theomedes was an older man in his prime. Laurent was pretty sure that even though he had more years on him than Aleron, Theomedes would be able to take Aleron down with a single punch.

“Who have you brought, my son?” Theomedes asked.

“This is prince Laurent, Exalted. He is the younger brother of Prince Auguste, who is now king.”

“And Auguste himself? Is he dead?”

Kastor snorted. Slaves probably already told him the answer to that question. Laurent had a feeling Theomedes knew too, but he wanted to hear the explanation from his son.

“No, Exalted. Our duel was interrupted by his brother, who offered himself as a hostage in return for peace.”

Kastor made a sound. “You were given one task, Damianos, to kill their leader. What did you do instead? Brought a child with you? It's obvious you can’t be trusted with military decisions yet.”

Laurent had never met Damen properly when Damen was seventeen, but not many men could stay calm at such accusation, especially those with Akielon blood.

Yet Damen only inclined his head.

“Would you have had me to murder a defenseless child instead? Do you think that Veretians would be willing to negotiate then, if their troops saw how we treated the civilians?”

“It doesn’t matter what they think! We have a strong position now and our goal is to annihilate them-”

“Our goal is to regain Delpha. Why should we waste more soldiers on this endeavour when we can easily gain what we seek with the new king’s heir as a bargaining chip?”

Theomedes raised his hand and both his sons fell silent.

“Kastor, you think like a soldier. Damianos thinks like a leader. We do not want to occupy Vere nor to burn all their towns and villages. We want what's rightfully ours and if they are willing to bargain over the young prince, so be it.”

Kastor scoffed, but didn’t say any more and Laurent felt a bit of satisfaction at that.

“However,” Theomedes turned to Damen. “You had your orders, Damianos. You know what punishment befalls soldiers who disobey in the cohort.”

“Yes, Exalted.”

Laurent couldn’t remember what it was. He was pretty sure Damen outlawed those punishments during his rule, but he didn’t remember the details, as he wasn’t dealing with it personally.

“Now…” Theomedes turned his eyes to Laurent. “You are the younger prince, yes?” He switched to Veretian. He wasn’t fluent, but his vocabulary and grammar were passable.

“Yes, your majesty,” Laurent replied. 

“Hm, polite, at least.”

“Veretians always are, then they stab you in the back,” Kastor muttered in Akielon.

“Would you say your brother cares about you?” Theomedes ignored his son and kept talking.

“Yes, very much, your majesty. We are close.”

“He seemed distressed when I captured Laurent,” Damen supplied.

Theomedes looked thoughtful, stroking his beard.

“They say that man’s fighting says more about his character than his words,” he continued in Akielon. “You have most familiarity with their new king, Damianos. You shall lead the negotiations.”

“But pater, it was me who led the charge-”

“And you shall be rewarded, Kastor. But now is the time for kings, not for generals.”

The expression on Kastor’s face turned to a sour grape. Laurent wondered if Theomedes didn’t notice the resentment he was brewing in his first son’s heart or if he just didn’t care.

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, an out of breath messenger announced that the Veretian party arrived to negotiate.

Slaves quickly shimmied in, cleaned the space in what seemed like seconds from clutter and military maps, and disappeared again. Kastor last checked himself in a mirror and Damen took Laurent by the shoulder and moved him to the back of the tent. Still visible, but obviously on their side of the place.

Theomedes remained sitting, but straightened his posture.

Auguste arrived, with some of the Council members in tow. Unlike the Akielon party, he obviously didn’t have time to change nor clean himself and there was some blood on his sleeve still. Most of Council members stood in stark contrast, as they were dressed in untouched finery. Laurent had a feeling that if they arrived dirty, they would have gained more respect from Theomedes that way.

“My brother of Akielos,” said Auguste and Laurent could see how hard it was for him to get those words past his lips.

“My brother of Vere. I was saddened to hear of your father’s passing. He was a formidable opponent. Yet you are not him and therefore I propose talks. Let’s discuss peace before more people die,” said Theomedes.

If Laurent was in Auguste’s place, he knew what he would say. But his brother was at the end of his limits, with his father dead and his brother captured.

“Cut the crap, Theomedes. If it wasn’t for your greed, my father would still be alive.”

“Greed?” Theomedes raised his eyebrow. “Delpha was our territory, until your kingdom decided to put fingers where they don’t belong. We had many reports of Akielon born men who suffered under Veretian rule.”

“I am sure you did,” Auguste said.

The tense silence reigned again and Laurent could see the Council exchanging uneasy glances. At least they stayed quiet.

Damianos stepped forward.

“King Auguste. Let us talk practically. We are willing to end the siege and stop the hostilities in an exchange for territory of Delpha.”

Theomedes waved his hand and a slave brought a new map with markers. 

Auguste was silent for a moment. Laurent was worried his brother might faint, so tired did he look. However, Auguste just sighed and nodded.

***

The talks were long and full of arguing about small details. Will this village belong to Vere or Akielos? Who is going to pay for what? What will be written in the peace treaty?

Laurent listened in and filled the information to his brain, but he was bored as hell. Usually, he was the one carrying out the negotiations. Now, he had to stay quiet. He tried to interfere once when obviously unfavourable proposition appeared and he got a chilly stare from Theomedes and Auguste shaking his head.

Finally, after several hours, it seemed the talks were finished. The map was drawn and redrawn once more, new borders established. A scribe dutifully worked on a treaty, writing both in Veretian and Akielon.

“There is one last question we need to raise,” said Damen. “About your brother.”

“I did what you asked,” Auguste replied. “Release Laurent to me.”

Theomedes raised his hand. “We need a guarantee that you will honor the treaty.”

“Are you saying I am dishonorable?”

“Your ancestors were,” Kastor sneered.

Auguste blanched and the councilors worriedly whispered amongst each other. This was a grave insult, but Vere was in no position to retaliate and everyone knew it.

“Your brother can stay with us in Ios. We shall treat him well,” Damen said calmly. Laurent felt his hand on his shoulder. He struggled to keep quiet.

“As a glorified hostage? Did Akielos turn to Vaskian Empire while I wasn’t looking? Will he have to recline next to the throne?”

It was indeed the practice of the current Vaskian empress. She always took hostages of conquered countries, preferably beautiful men. 

“You Veretian snake!” Kastor hissed, enraged at the insult.

“He is too young!” Augusted protested. “He is only thirteen and he doesn’t speak Akielon language! You cannot do this!” His voice took a turn to desperate.

Laurent himself wasn’t sure how he felt about this. He did speak Akielon and being in Ios would mean staying with Damen. Yet… to see his brother, only to have to leave him again?

Damen inclined his head. “Laurent isn’t your only living relative, if you are unwilling to be parted with him.”

Silence reigned in the tent.

Laurent turned sharply and stared at Damen. Even Theomedes, who kept a calm and unperturbed exterior during all of peace talks, seemed surprised.

“I mean… you mean…? Uh, you mean my uncle?” Auguste said, unsure.

“Yes. He is an adult and he speaks Akielon well, no?”

“I… need time to think it through.” Auguste said, in the end.

“It's time for a break anyway,” Damen announced. “Bring refreshments,” he waved at the attendants. “We shall reconvene in half an hour.”

Auguste nodded and he and his entourage left. He gave Laurent a worried glance as he was leaving the tent.

As soon as the Veretians left, Kastor turned to his brother.

“What the hell, Damianos? What are we gonna do with old geezer in Ios?”

Theomedes was frowning as well. “The young prince is a valuable hostage. We could have educated him in our ways, plus he is the heir. How do we know the king cares about his uncle?”

“Think about it,” Damen said. “The man is renowned for his cunning and political acumen. Without him, king Auguste will be majorly weakened. He is a new king and his advisors seem too scared to disagree with him, so we would deprive him of his strongest asset. Moreover, Veretians family ties are strong. His citizens would see it as a betrayal if the king took any action to harm his own uncle.”

Laurent stared at his husband.

“Hm, perhaps I was too quick to judge your decision as unwise,” Theomedes admitted. “We shall see what king Auguste will decide.”

“I need to pee,” Laurent blurted. Everyone looked at him immediately.

“Are you a babe? Go outside the tent,” Kastor said incredulously.

“I thought I need to be watched at all times?” Laurent protested. “What if something happens to me?”

“I will go with him,” Damen said. “He is right, we shouldn't leave him out of our sight.”

Theomedes waved them away and they both left the tent. They walked in silence until they reached a place far enough from the earshot of soldiers.

“What the hell, Damen?” Laurent turned quickly on his heel. “What nonsense are you pulling?”

“I thought you said you trusted me?” Damen said, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Of course I trust you! But I have no clue what you are trying to do here!” Usually, Laurent could see through Damianos’ schemes. They were rarely elaborate, Damen loved to get to the point quickly. But this time, he couldn’t see what Damen was trying to achieve at all.

Damianos sighed.

“I had time to think about this all, Laurent. When I hatched this plan, I wasn’t sure if you would be… well, you or not.”

“And?”

“And I decided I need to separate you and Regent. If he is a political hostage at Ios, I can keep an eye of him easily. ”

“How do you know that Auguste won’t decide to leave me in Ios instead?”

“Please, Laurent. Your brother loves you, he would never do that. And even if he did, you would still be separated. But I counted on Auguste’s refusal, I even had my arguments prepared.”

“I noticed… Citizens would take it as a betrayal, really? You know very well murder in family is a Veretian past-time.”

“My father doesn’t really grasp that. He has conservative views,” Damen shrugged.

They stood a moment in silence.

“I could have dealt with him on my own,” Laurent said.

“But you don’t have to, Laurent. You are not alone.”

Laurent realized he was shaking and felt strong hands around him immediately.

“It's not just you, Laurent,” Damen whispered. “I thought of Nicaise, Aimeric, all the people he hurt… If he is in Ios, he cannot touch them. He cannot spread his poison in Vere, cannot discredit your brother and you with awful rumours.”

“Aren’t you worried Kastor will just fall for his words faster?”

Damen shrugged. “We shall cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“You are an idiot,” Laurent said, tears still in his eyes. “You have elaborate plans to protect me, yet you don’t even give a thought to your own safety. Isn’t that usually my job?”

“My job is usually to go first into the fray, but you took that from me with Auguste, so I had to swap,” Damen laughed.

They stayed in silence, holding each other in embrace. Laurent tried to get as much closeness as possible - who knew when they would see each other again? They weren’t strangers to distance and time separating them, yet he didn’t want to let go. 

There was one more thing he wanted to ask Damen, now that they were alone.

“What punishment will you get for not killing Auguste?” he asked.

Damen looked uncomfortable. “Lashes.”

“What?” Laurent immediately let go. “They are going to whip you? But you are the prince…”

“Doesn’t matter. Punishments are the same for everyone.”

The silence that stretched between them was full of pain. Damianos always claimed that the whips didn’t bother him, but Laurent knew it to be a lie. He had seen his husband flinch at the sound of it. It made sense why he was so fast to outlaw them as a punishment in the army, how could Laurent forget?

“Some things don’t change in any world, I suppose.”

“Damen…”

“It's worth it. Your brother is alive, I would have taken more than lashes to achieve that.”

“You shouldn’t have to!”

“We are pushing fate as it is. Let this one be, Laurent.”

Laurent wanted to run back to the tent and scream at Theomedes. Didn’t the man love his son? He ruined his family because of it, yet he was willing to lash him?

“Is that why you let your father die?” Damen asked.

Laurent startled. There was no judgement in Damen’s eyes, but Laurent knew Damen loved his family dearly. He would try to save Theomedes if their positions were reserved.

“Because of fate? No. I let him die because he knew,” he replied.

“Knew…”

“He knew about my uncle’s preferences and he allowed it.”

Damen didn’t say anything for a moment. “I am glad he is dead, then.”

Laurent nodded. They embraced again.

A noise from the direction of the tent interrupted them. Kastor was loudly ordering a slave to bring back Damianos, sounding annoyed.

They hurried back, their hands slipping from grasp when the evening darkness could not hide it anymore, torches illuminating them.

“Took you long enough,” Kastor said. “Were you shitting over there or what?”

“Don’t be crude, Kastor. Don’t you know that Veretians need lot of time to get out of their clothes? You wouldn’t believe how many laces there are…”

Kastor looked like he had more opinions on that topic, but thankfully decided to refrain. 

“Time is almost up,” said Theomedes. 

Soon, Auguste appeared with the council in tow. Added was another person and Laurent instinctively froze upon seeing him. It made sense, of course, but it still wasn’t pleasant. Damen squeezed his shoulder again in encouragement, his face stiff like a mask. 

Last time, it was Regent who led the negotiations, Laurent weeping uncontrollably in his tent, not able to get up. Now, Regent was but a pawn. How times change…

“We have reached an agreement,” Auguste pronounced. “I am willing to exchange my brother for my uncle.”

Everybody pretty much expected this. Laurent wondered what his uncle said when Auguste informed him of this decision. It was surely not what Regent expected.

The man himself looked content, like this was a stroll in the park and not tense hostage situation. “Akielos is a glorious country and I would love to stay for a prolonged visit,” he said in accented Akielon. One part of Laurent took satisfaction in knowing he spoke Akielon much better.

“Oh, I am sure we will love to have you,” Damen said, his teeth showing. In that moment, he looked like a lioness ready to strike her prey down. He squeezed Laurent’s shoulder one last time and slowly let him go.

Laurent and his uncle exchanged places. As soon as Laurent reached Auguste, he was enveloped in a bear hug.

“Laurent, are you alright?” Auguste whispered frantically. 

“I am fine, nobody hurt me.”

Then, talks started again. It was time for glorious speeches and assurances of friendship, for flourishly signing the peace treaty and sharing bit of alcohol. Laurent’s mind was still sharp, but his body was that of a young man and he felt himself dropping a bit. When Auguste sensed his exhaustion, he sent the servants to lead him away.

Laurent took a look at his husband, last he would take for a very long time. There was longing in Damen’s returning gaze.

“Write to me,” Laurent mouthed without sound.

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was always my plan to have Damen remember as well - Damen not remembering would be too angsty for me.  
Dear readers, did you expect this development or did it catch you by surprise? Feel free to share your thoughts. :)
> 
> Also, Laurent to Nikandros in the past life:  
"If I go and jump and Damen, he will surely catch me."  
"Laurent, don't, I am holding a pitcher!"  
Pitcher falls to the ground.
> 
> ;)


	5. The Best Laid Plans

The Arles they returned to was new. In Laurent’s memory, there was never a time when Auguste was a king. Despite the familiar halls, it felt like a new place.

With the knowledge he would stay in the palace for some time to come, Laurent took to redecorating. Everyone was surprised when the young prince started making demands about interiors, but king Auguste just waved it away and gave his brother a free reign.

Heavy brocade was exchanged for light draperies. Ornate golden vases were put into treasury, replaced by the ceramics one which were easier to clean and simple in design. Flowers and shrubberies growing in pots were inserted into hallways, dusty rugs cleaned and removed.

It was like a whole palace forgot about the old king as soon as he lay encased in marble in the family tomb.

Interior design wasn’t the only thing Laurent took part in. After a lengthy discussion with his brother, he started sitting on council meetings. He rarely talked, instead furiously writing notes. Councillors soon learned that despite his youth, prince Laurent was not one to underestimate. His additions to the discussion sounded innocent enough, but too often cut too close to undesirable truth.

“Didn’t you say two sessions ago that you support higher taxes on nobles, councillor? I wonder what happened for you to change your mind this way…”

Councillors all privately agreed that the young prince was not to be crossed.

All mentors and teachers also noted changes in prince Laurent’s behaviour. He always excelled in theoretical knowledge, could recite history and classical poems, yet he used to avoid the lessons in sword-fighting. Now, he could be found in the training ring more often than in the library. However, the one most shocked was the language teacher. While Laurent could speak some languages passably, notably Patran and Vaskian, he always refused to learn Akielon, pronouncing it to be “barbarian language of our enemies”! Yet now, the teacher caught him reading poems in Isthimian dialect.

Everyone privately agreed that it was the death of Aleron which caused this change. Some claimed that prince Laurent finally found his focus after realizing his mortality, some that he wanted to make his deceased father proud. Others that the king Aleron was stifling young prince and only his death freed him from the oppressive shadow, allowing prince Laurent to shine. There was one agreement shared by all, however - Laurent matured.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the only rumor circulated about the young prince…

One sunny day, Laurent decided to read in the garden. He found a private spot in the crown of the big willow tree, enjoying its shade. He was so engorged into the record of Akielon marriage customs that he didn’t even notice people sitting under his hiding place until they spoke.

“I hope king Auguste gets married soon,” said one voice. Laurent recognized it as one of the numerous offsprings of Arlesian courtiers, closer to his own age than maturity.

“What, hoping he might pick you? Dream on, girl, you are barely fifteen.”

The young miss sniffed. “I don’t care who he marries, as long as it's a lady of good standing and they have kids soon. I hate the thought of that… that brat sitting on Veretian throne.”

“Are you still hung up on that one time he called your hairdo a nest where a bird shat at?”

Laurent chuckled to himself. It wasn’t very polite of him, but she called his magic tricks stupid and he figured that’s what any thirteen year old boy would say in response.

“No! It's not about that. Well, only partly. You know what they say about him? That he is a coward. We could have won the war if he hadn't jumped in front of Damianos’ sword! My papa said so!”

“I hate how all highty mighty he acts around us,” added another voice. “Like we are all below him? He treated me like a kid, yet I am older!”

“I say we put some itching powder in his clothes… When he is training, we could-”

Before they could finish, Laurent jumped down from the tree. The small group squeaked in alarm.

“If you don’t want to be treated like kids, don’t act like ones.”

“You… you!” The loudest of trio tried to get out.

“Me. Also, please do tell your parents that calling the heir to the throne ‘coward’ could be considered treason,” Laurent said with a wink.

They dispersed as quickly as they came and Laurent finally had time to read in peace.

***

As expected, him scaring bunch of spoiler noble kids did have consequences. Laurent nodded to himself. As it should be. It proved that Auguste’s staff was loyal to him and that all needed information reached his ear.

He still wasn’t looking forward to telling off he was going to get. Auguste rarely shouted or raged, he was just disappointed instead.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, pinching his brows. He looked tired, with the kingly circlet in his golden hair.

“They were calling me a coward.” Not that Laurent actually cared that much, he was called worse things during his life. But he knew his thirteen year old him would care. He put on his best pout and Auguste glared at him in response.

“They are dumb little kids. Did you really threaten to execute their families for this?” 

Not that Laurent could actually do that, certainly not for such a small thing. Not that Auguste would ever allow it. However, the children didn’t know that.

“I just advised them that calling heir to the throne a coward could be considered treason.”

Auguste sighed.

“Laurent… Is this because of me? I don’t have as much time for you as I did in the past. I know I have been neglecting you lately, but - “

Laurent had to giggle a bit at that. “My dear Auguste, only you could hear about me getting into an argument with kids and deciding it was your fault.” Ah, those small bits of his brother’s personality he had basically forgotten over those long years without him. 

Auguste didn’t find it funny, though. “I hoped you might find new friends among the children here in the palace, yet I hear you treat them badly instead.”

Laurent pondered his response. Truth was, the offsprings of local nobles didn’t have much in common with him, not in the same way Auguste hoped. At most, they reminded Laurent of his grandchildren. He did try to have few amicable conversations with them at the start - he had always loved kids and in his previous life, talked with them often. However, these children caught pretty quickly he wasn’t talking to them as one would to a peer, but as one would to someone younger. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until one of them called him out for treating them this way. Also, apparently showing them magic tricks was considered ‘uncool’. How preposterous! Tem always loved his magic tricks.

Oh, how would Damen laugh at him. He managed to fool his own family and his teachers, yet didn’t manage the same with a group of small kids. Perhaps it was because adults only saw what they wanted to see, while the children saw truth as it was.

Laurent didn’t want to lie to his brother. It was already difficult to keep all the knowledge stored inside his head and not share. He had to restrain himself during council meetings, not to offer advice when Auguste dealt with taxes or border disputes. It was better for Auguste to learn by experience, plus Laurent would be hard-pressed to explain how come he was more knowledgeable about some particular topics than his older brother. Sometimes he got away with it by claiming he was inspired by one historical figure or another, but that couldn’t hold water forever.

No, Laurent would not lie to his brother’s face when asked, not when he didn’t have to.

“I just… I just feel that me and them are fundamentally different people. Not because of our station,” he hurried on when he saw the expression on Auguste’s face. “But I don’t care about court and its matters. Moreover, they don’t actually want to be friends with me, just with who I represent. And they think my magic tricks are lame...”

Auguste’s face softened. He loved the trick with the coin Laurent showed him, even thought Laurent flubbed his second attempt. He still wasn’t used to these smaller hands.

“I understand, Laurent, I really do. Yet I still can’t help but worry. You need to have peers of your age.”

Laurent perked up at that. He had a certain plan and the sooner he could put it into motion, the better.

“I met someone during the Winter games, actually!” That felt like ages ago now. Literally decades for Laurent, since this event happened before he woken up in this body. It was only several months for Auguste, still, these passing months were long and tiring. 

“Oh? Who was it?”

Now did come the part with lying. Or at least embellishing the truth. Laurent didn’t actually remember anything about those particular games, certainly not the details he was planning to divulge.

“Councillor Guion brought all his children to the games and one of them is about a year younger than me… He was really interesting, I think his name was Aimeric! I would love to meet him again.”

Auguste beamed at him. “Well, I might just talk with councillor to invite his son here! I am sure he won’t be troubled.”

Oh, he won’t be. Slime as he is, Guion will undoubtedly seize this opportunity, no matter what Aimeric says. 

“Well, if that’s all…” Laurent stood to leave.

“There is one other thing I wanted to discuss with you,” Auguste said. He searched through his desk - the amount of documents on it was truly impressive - and came out with a piece of yellow parchment, official seal on it broken. Laurent’s heart sped up when he noticed the symbol of Akielos.

“You got a letter from prince Damianos of Akielos.”

Damen actually sent the letter through  _ official _ channels? Laurent had to shake his head. Well, at least it explained why the correspondence was taking so long. 

“You actually look happy about this?” Auguste was astonished. “I was so worried…”

Laurent realized too late his joy must have shown on his face. He coughed.

“Well. Damianos did promise to write to me.”

The stare he got was long and pronounced.

“Why the hell would he do that?”

“We talked while you were gone. He is actually pretty nice fellow,” Laurent said. Better to lay the groundwork early. “He was decent, apologized for his actions during the battle and made sure I was treated according to my station and needs.”

“Did he,” Auguste’s voice sounded flat.

“And… he knows about uncle’s preferences. He assured me uncle won’t get what he wants in his country.”

Auguste gaped at that. 

“But.. But how could he know that? It's a secret even here in Vere, yet he…”

Laurent shrugged. “I didn’t tell him.” Truth. It was Regent himself who revealed that particular truth in the past, after all. “They were an enemy country, they probably have spies to dig out the worst dirt on our family.” At least Laurent hoped so, although Theomedes didn’t look like the type to send his spies after court scandals. If there was any digging from Akielos, it was likely after Veretian military secrets.

“I thought I got rid of all spies in the palace, now you got me worried again.” Auguste shook his head. “Anyway, I read the list thrice. It’s… polite. And he is referencing some sort of poem?” 

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “You were reading my correspondence?” That got his brother blushing. Technically, he was a king and he breached no law by doing this - most people would consider reading such a letter common sense anyway. Yet it was still a little rude.

“I was worried,” He defended himself. “I thought that barbarian would try to bring back bad memories or invite you to Ios, or something!”

It was actually really cute to see Auguste squirming like this. In Laurent’s opinion, he got too serious after the war. 

“No worries, I just want to establish some diplomatic relationship between our countries. It can only help us in the future, I am sure of it.”

“Not sure how bird poems are going to help, but you are welcome to it. Just be careful, Laurent, he is older and Akielon.” Auguste handed him the parchment and Laurent accepted it. It was just an ordinary missive, yet it felt like it was burning holes in his palms. 

“If I had to face him in arena, I would be worried, but I am sure I will win any battle of wits, even if I am younger,” Laurent assured his brother. 

“Go, go already, I can see you want to read it in private,” Auguste waved him away and Laurent took his leave gladly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

***

Laurent always admired Damen’s penmanship and today was no different. He gently stroked the lines on the paper, imagining his husband’s sure hand when writing.

At first glance, the letter was just generic greetings and platitudes, written in beautiful Veretian. How Damianos was glad to meet his highness, how he hoped for prosperous relationship between nations, etc. Near the end, Damianos mentioned a beautiful poem that their meeting reminded him of.

Laurent smirked. He wondered if Auguste tried to search for this particular poem in the library. At any rate, he would be unsuccessful, because the poem hasn’t been written yet. It was created during the first years of their united rule. It was very metaphorical and talked about both princes as songbirds trapped in cages. However, the exact content wasn’t that important. By mentioning it, Damen let Laurent know he used a code and the poem was the key to deciphering it. They often used such tactics during their lives together, when they wanted to share secret information. Usually though, they used love letters as a way to conceal political information, not the other way around.

It took him some time before the content of the real message lay in front of him. 

_ “My Dear Laurent, _

_ day does not pass without me thinking of you and missing you dearly. I closely follow the news of Auguste’s new rule and hope for some slips of information about you that may be hidden there. _

_ It has been hard to adjust to my old life and I wonder if it's the same for you, or if living next to Auguste feels natural like breathing. I forgot just how conservative my father could be. We clash more often than ever and Kastor is very much enjoying it. It feels strange, to stand next to my brother, knowing what he tried to do the me. I catch myself wondering if ending my life was always in his heart, or if i did something that spun him into action. _

_ Your uncle is confined in his quarters, with a strict surveillance. I freed the slaves picked to serve him and made sure they were old, experienced and properly compensated. He tried to get out a few messages, but he has been unsuccessful so far. We share meals with him and he is aware of my antipathy, but he thinks I hate him due his Veretian blood. I plan to keep it that way for the foreseeable future - no need to tip my hands sooner. _

_ As for me, I feel more lonely than ever. Nikandros is ruling Delpha, too busy for my antics. My other companions leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I forgot just how much I enjoyed frivolous past-times as youth and how often I made use of slaves. I made my excuses, but now whispers are going around the palace that I suddenly became impotent. Because that's surely the only possible explanation for my behaviour.  _

_ Yet, being with my family again, meeting people long gone, gives joy to my heart. I can wrestle again, use my sword arm. I spend my days in training ring or near the sea, diving for beautiful conchs I plan to give you when we meet next. _

_ I hope you are doing well, that Auguste living is everything you longed for and more. _

_ I miss you. Write soon. _

_ Yours ever, _

_ Damen _

Eagerly, Laurent took up his pen and started on his response, pouring his heart to the paper. There were so many things he wanted to share...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Laurent, he is too much of an old geezer for kiddos! :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the new chapter. I will post updates less often now, since I only have one more chapter pre-written.
> 
> Feel free to mention anything you would like to see in this fic and it just might appear. ;)


	6. Damen's woes

In his past life, Damen loved breakfasts. It was his favourite meal of the day, although not because of the food. No, it was because breakfast was always the family time. Lunches were usually eaten in rush in between the work duties and dinners were formal, with guests and customs to be observed. Breakfasts, however… those were just quiet moment for him and his family, to share peace and quiet and discussing the upcoming day. At the beginning, it was only him and Laurent, but then their little family grew and grew.

Now, Damen wished he opted out to take his food in his private chambers instead of seeing his family. Not that his private chambers were better, because they had slaves who tried to hand feed him and he felt decidedly uncomfortable while trying to dodge their affections. But at least they didn’t have Regent. 

The man wasn’t called Regent, of course, but Damen refused to name him. It was how he always thought of the man, and force of habit was hard to change. He certainly wasn’t going to call him by his first name.

The man in question ate calmly, served by a pair of older freed slaves. Damen picked them personally - one man and woman he trusted. He claimed the Veretian guest would be insulted to be served by slaves and with this reasoning, made them free. The truth was he could care less about Regent’s sensibilities, but he did care about his own. Plus, if they were freed, they could hardly be swayed with promises of Veretian freedom the man was sure to offer them in exchange for lowering their watchfulness. Already, the man tried to bribe them twice, both times unsuccessful.

Another thorn in Damen’s side was Kastor, who was currently sitting next to him. As a young man, he loved his brother. Now, that love was marred with the remembrance of their latests shared moments. Oh, he still loved his brother, yet the brotherly love felt tainted and unrequited. He didn’t want to notice the sneers and taunts Kastor threw his way, just like he didn’t notice them in the past. However, living next to Laurent so many years has primed him to recognize the hidden meanings behind words and he was unable to ignore the hostility.

And lastly, his father. The man he admired once, greatly. They always shared their views, the respected and beloved king could do no wrong in Damen’s eyes. Until he met the man again and saw him as an adult, king in his own right, instead of parental figure. Their first argument erupted before they even reached Ios, when Theomedes called Veretians “filthy liars and weaklings”. When Damianos spoke up, he could feel his father’s disappointment and anger like a choking blanket. And then...

Damen could still feel the lashes burning on his back. Less of them and they would not scarr, not like the one from previous life. Yet they stung more. How ironic, the first ones were given by someone he hated at the time and grown to love. Now, it was like the order was reserved. The love he felt for his father seemed to falter every time the whip was raised and touched his back. The physical pain was almost gone by this point, but the one he felt in his heart was ever-present every time he talked to his father.

There were others at the table, of course, and many slaves serving them food and drinks. Yet Damen felt trapped at this table of misery and dearly missed the days before his death.

“Damianos, I am surprised to see you up so early again,” Kastor said. “Didn’t you used to sleep till noon, unless on campaign?”

That he did, but old habits were hard to break and Damen rarely indulged after he took kingship. Laurent would surely offer some cutting remark or elaborate explanation in response, but Damen’s tongue felt heavy.

“I changed my mind,” He simply said.

“It's good for a young prince to raise early, is it not? More time for duties, time waits for nobody.”

Damen grinded his teeth. If it came from anyone else, the defense would be appreciated, but not from Regent of all people. 

“What duties, cavorting with gladiators?” Kastor laughed, the sound ugly.

Damen abruptly stood, his food unfinished.

“I am going out,” he said. 

His father barely gave him a look, choosing a route of silent treatments due to their recent disagreements. 

More than ever, Damianos really, really missed his old family.

It seemed like Damen could not get even a moment of peace. Regent reappeared when Damen was preparing his horse for a ride.

“Your Highness,” the silky voice crooned, “we seem to have started on the wrong foot. You don’t share the dislike of your father and brother for my country men, yet I feel like you do not like me.”

Damianos quickly turned, burning holes into that face. His hand instinctively searched for a blade.

“You feel correctly,” he bit out. His control has gotten much better over the passing years, but certain people still brought out the worst in him. He dearly wished he could just murder the man right here on the spot, but even for a crown prince, murder of a foreign dignitary would be unpardonable offence.

“Have I offended you somehow? If so, I apologize, I am not yet accustomed to Akielos.”

“You apologize before even learning what offended me? How Veretian of you,” Damen said. He hoped it sounded enough like his father to deter the man from pushing the issue.

Yet, the Regent smiled. “I noticed you have a hard time with your family. Perhaps you would like to learn how we Veretians deal with family disagreements.”

“Oh, I thought you went straight for murder when it came to family. I might just try that out on you if you ever approach me like this ever again,” Damen hissed. “Get out of my sight.”

He mounted his horse before the twitch in his hand overcame him. Regent’s face still held the previous smile, but it was noticeably more pinched than previously. Damen hoped he gave the shitstain some food for thought and urged his horse to get away as quickly as possible.

***

Of all the troubles he faced, the fact that he had nobody to face them with currently hurt the most. He had grown accustomed to Laurent’s near-constant presence, of sharing their ideas and plans, of dealing with issues together. Now, he was alone. He did write to his husband, eagerly awaiting a response, but a heavily coded letter was no way near the real thing.

He briefly considered sharing his woes with Nikandros. The man would call him ridiculous and maybe call his sanity into question, but he would never not support him. However, his best friend was far away in Delpha, trying to wrangle the unstable region into shape. It would do him a disservice to visit him now. Maybe after several months, once the situation has settled, but not now. He would only add to his friends’ many worries. 

It was with a pang in his heart that Damen realized he had no other real friends. Oh, he had many underlings and companions, willing and happy to accompany him on his incursions, nodding along no matter what mad scheme he proposed. Yet those were companion of the nineteen years old him, who mostly cared about horse riding and fights in the arena, maybe about the most beautiful people to share bed with. Even when he was young, he didn’t indulge in thoughtful conversations with them, let alone now. They would never disagree, too loyal or maybe too scared to do so. They weren’t his friends, not really. 

He wondered if he could talk to Lykaois, the gentle heart who shared his chambers, cut down too young. The fair-haired girl was clearly worried for him since he refused her ministration. He tried to imply he was pursuing someone, but his words clearly didn’t have the intended effect and only worried her more. If she was a free woman, one who decided to share his bed because she loved his laugh after he flirted with her whole evening, he might have shared the darkness of his heart with her. Yet, she was a slave and she had no choice. He didn’t touch her since he returned to his body.

In the end, he decided to visit the places of his childhood, in hopes that the familiarity would heal his heart a bit and shorten the wait until he could see his husband again. When he told his father he wished to call on Heston of Thoas, Theomedes just waved him away without a parting glance. In the past, they always went together, father and son, a king and a prince. Now, he undertook the journey alone.

He hoped to remember the days of his youth, running around in orchards and vineyards, debating with Heston about philosophy and famous poets. Instead, what came to his mind was Laurent’s quick smile and how he always smelled of horses when he came from stables. How long ago did he last yearn so?

At least Heston was as hospitable as ever, greeting the young prince warmly, not asking questions about where were the Damen’s usual companions and slaves. After a simple dinner, Damen retreated to the famous library of the Heston’s estate and was finally, blessedly, alone.

***

He enjoyed the peace and quiet, sitting curled up on a bench, reading a book of Akielon myths. They used to read together with Laurent when he was teaching him old Akielon. Damen’s heart finally started to settle, reaching the calmness he needed and craved.

“Ah, I know that look.”

Damianos looked up, startled. Heston was smiling at him, stroking his beard. 

Damen didn’t even notice it got dark outside and that someone lit the braziers for him too see, so engrossed he was in his reading. 

“What kind of look?” Damen asked. 

“You are in love, aren’t you, young prince?” Heston chuckled good-naturally. 

Was his face that readable?

“Perhaps,” he admitted.

Heston sat down next to him. “Your father wrote to me, you know. How you changed after the war, that you are arguing with him now. That you are refusing your bed slaves, avoiding your friends, and questioning his decisions. He is quite worried.”

“Is he?” He didn’t even realize his father noticed. 

“But now that I see you, it all makes sense. I had thought it was some sort of teenage rebellion, but you are a bit old for those now… No, you are in love and that explains everything,” Heston laughed. 

Well, it did make sense as an explanation, Damen supposed. 

“I met someone,” he allowed himself to say.

“Oh? Do indulge this old geezer and share more details, you know I always love to hear them.”

It was easy to talk to Heston. He never judged, never shouted, only offered opinions and smiles. He loved obscure philosophies and debates, always prepared with quotes to pepper in conversation.

“They are so beautiful, Heston. Their smile lights up the room, it’s like… there is sun in their hair and their heart. When they look at me, I feel like the only person in the room.”

“At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet*, indeed,” quoted Heston. “But are they a good person? Are they kind to you, Damen?”

“You are not the first person to ask me that,” Damen chuckled with admission. He still remembered the worried looks Nikandross gave him, especially from the beginning. “I am blessed to have people who care so much.”

He went quiet for a moment. “Many people think them unpleasant or cold, but they don’t know them like I do. They care so much, I sometimes worry their heart might burst.”

“Sounds like an amazing woman, one I would be happy to meet,” said Heston and it felt like a bucket of cold water.

Akielon language used neutral pronouns, not like the Veretian did. Until Heston mentioned it, Damianos didn’t even realize he might sound like talking about a woman.

Oh, it made sense. Damianos never hid his affection for both genders, and it was known he took both women and men into his bed. It wasn’t uncommon in Akielon society either and nobody much cared, if all involved were unmarried. However, he made love to women more often than to men and there was an underlying assumption he would once marry a beautiful, noble lady and have many children with her, continuing the line.

“You seem unhappy, suddenly,” Heston caught on his mood quickly. “Did I misspoke?”

“Let’s say my father won’t be thrilled when he learns of their identity,” Damen said in the end. 

“Oh, I have guessed that, my dear boy. If it was a suitable noble lady, you would have told him already. Instead, you are brooding, yearning and arguing with him.”

Damianos just nodded. It was one of the many reasons, at least, and the one easiest to name.

“You don’t have to tell me, though you must know I would never betray your confidence.”

“I don’t think you would tell my father, Heston, but I am not sure you yourself would approve,” Damianos admitted. To his grief, the previous Heston died before Laurent and Damen married. He was an old man, his health only worsened after being bullied by Kastor and his soldiers. He never learned what the man might think of the union.

Heston laughed at that.

“Oh, I am sure you won’t shock me, Damen. Are they a slave, perhaps? Or someone you met while in siege of Delpha? Some Veretian women have blonde hair and I know its your preference.”

“It’s someone I met on the battlefield of Marlas,” Damen admitted. 

Heston looked thoughtful. “On the battlefield? But I have heard it was the Kastor, who led the charge, and that you only fought the young king…”

Heston watched his face and suddenly, his expression turned sad. “My dear boy. That is indeed an ill-fated love, if it was that certain blonde head which turned your heart.”

“You are not angry?” Damen felt shocked, for he didn’t expect Heston to figure it out.

His mentor shook his head. “Why would I be? Our heart takes us to unusual places and we cannot help where we end up. But you must now, such love is not to be. If it was a Veretian princess, then perhaps, but two men of your station, is is impossible.”

It wasn’t, Damen thought privately. He and Laurent made it work. However, another voice of doubt niggled at him - they got married in a different time, only successors of their kingdoms. Now Auguste was a king and Theomedes ruled. Would Auguste even approve such a marriage? He didn’t seem that keen on Damianos when they met. And Theomedes… Oh, how his father would rage. For an heir to marry a man? Impossible, unthinkable. It was the Theomedes most loyal followers who protested the most when he proposed. Plus, if Auguste ruled, it wouldn’t be a balanced union of two countries. Laurent would have to stand as a consort at his side and such thought quickly soured Damianos stomach. They were equals!

“Being a monarch seems like a dream to many, yet they don’t realize how limiting it is,” Damen said quietly. “Sometimes I wish I was born a merchant’s assistant or something similar. Simple.”

Heston touched his shoulder and gently squeezed it.

“Your father would probably disagree with my words, Damen, but… you don’t have to be a king if you don’t wish to be.”

Damen raised his head and stared at the man. He never really thought deeply of his birthright. It was his, he was born to be king and that was that. He was not raised to question that assumption. He never chose to be a king, it was what he was, part of his identity, part of him. He was molded, created to sit upon the throne of Akielos and couldn’t imagine a world where such an event did not pass to be. Ever when chained in the deepest part of the ship onboard to Vere, even when a slave in Arena, he never doubted he would return to his country and rule. It wasn’t something he wished or yearned to do, particularly - not like he yearned to see Laurent again, for example. It was just something that was.

“But… I am the heir.”

Heston shrugged. “You do have siblings, Damen. And monarchy isn’t the only form of government possible. Didn’t Akielos have a rule of people once, many years ago?”

“Are you secretly a democrat in your heart, Heston?” Damen laughed.

“Oh, I used to argue with your father about it, but that was a long time ago. Now I am just an old man, loyal to his king.”

Damen nodded, his head swimming in thoughts.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Loyal to your father. It must be hard when you are in love with the monarch of enemy country.”

Wait, did Heston think that Damen was love with  _ Auguste _ ? Oh my…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Damen, lol.  
There will be some POV changes in this story - though its mostly from Laurent's point of view, there will be few Damen's chapters. 
> 
> Heston is a character from the books, not my OC! He is mentioned in the third book, but Laurent discourages Damen from visiting his estate, since it could bring danger to Heston.  
I also decided to left Regent unnamed. Though Pacat mentioned his name on her blog, it feels more appropriate to let him be unnamed threat. (Also, did you know that in first version, he was called Laurent, same as our main protagonist? apparently its traditional name for second sons in Vere... I am kinda glad Pacat didn't go with that in the book, we had enough angst as it is!)


	7. Meeting you again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a time-skip and appearance of several characters not featured previously! Enjoy! :)

In the following years, the young prince and his follower, noble son of the Councillor, had gotten a bit of infamous reputation around Arles. Most people secretly hoped that young Aimeric would have tempering tendencies on prince Laurent, with his older brothers so poised and talented in politics. Instead, their shenanigans only got worse as time passed.

They weren’t the usual shenanigans of teenage boys, however. They didn’t bother maids nor did they try to sneak into brothels. They didn’t indulge in too much alcohol (except that one time on Laurent’s birthday where Laurent got spectacularly smashed and kept drunkenly talking about some dark-skinned beauty) nor did they break furniture. People would be hard-pressed to explain just what exactly this pair did, just that they obviously did something.

You could find them sneaking around in the most improbable places, talking to people noble young men shouldn’t be talking to. They brawled, kept challenging people to duels (mostly Aimeric), threw figs and other fruits on passersby (almost always Laurent). They wore unusual clothing, scandalously lacking in lace and showing skin, and even practiced Akielon type of wrestling, basically naked! They kept to kitchens, stables or gardens instead of their chambers. 

Despite their unusual behaviour, nobles of Vere still tried to curry favour with the young prince. He was beautiful, elegant and if you talked to him during a formal event, you would get the impression he was a bright, polite young man with a loyal follower. However, the expensive gifts given to him were always later found returned or distributed among the castle staff. Young prince never promised anything and those who tried to get to him through Aimeric soon found themselves on the sharp side of the sword, being challenged to fight for their honor. 

And those who tried the courting route got burned even worse. One noble ran away from formal dinner in tears after prince Laurent publicly shredded his love poetry. People who got too handsy during dances or sitting arrangements were fought off with a well-aimed kick to private places or forks in their thighs. Aimeric was seen burning a bunch of roses after someone tried to sneak them into the prince’s rooms.

Everyone agreed - those two deserved each other. Some claimed they had a passionate love affair together, some that they were both frigid and that’s why their mutual loyalty was so high.

People complained, of course they did. Nobles brought their petitions to the king, who scanned them with tired eyes.

“Is Laurent still following his duties and lessons?” he asked. His teachers looked at each other awkwardly. 

“Well, yes, Your Majesty, but-”

“Did he hurt anyone?”

Glances were exchanged, for nobody was willing to admit that they lost duels to a boy aged barely fifteen. And those who touched Laurent kept their mouths closed too, because their punishment would be even more severe if the king knew about their actions.

“If he follows his duties and isn’t harming anyone, then I don't see the issue,” Auguste said. 

“But Your Majesty, he is your heir! How can we allow such behaviour? What will our neighbours think?”

“Actually, Laurent holds a regular correspondence with the prince of Akielos and other princes from neighbouring nations. I would say our diplomacy is flourishing.”

“But what about the peasants, surely those-”

“Are you saying people don’t love prince Laurent? My reports say that the support for the royal family is through the roof and that we are seen as more approachable than ever due to my brother’s actions. We certainly saw an increase in willingness of common people to step forward with accusations of corruption and theft by the noble class. Or do you think that’s a bad thing?”

Nobody spoke up again, since protest against this would be seen as an admission of trying to hide something.

“If you have something constructive, my doors are always open. Otherwise, get out of my sight.”

***

“Your smile is worrisome,” said Aimeirc while peeling almonds. They were lounging in Laurent’s bed, Laurent reading a letter with a look of concentration.

“Why do you think so?”

“It's your_ I plan to get into trouble _ smile.”

“Maybe so. I certainly have plans.”

“You always have plans, but some are better than others.”

Laurent finally looked at his companion and shook his head. Aimeric certainly flourished since coming into the palace. He was a nervous, red-face mess when he first approached Laurent those several years ago.

“What was my best plan?”

“Hm, hard to say. Probably the one that got me here, but I might be biased.” 

“You don’t miss your drafty castle and your too many brothers?”

“Har har. I certainly don’t miss my father, he can enjoy their company he so loves,” Aimeric said, with just a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Aimeric never believed that Laurent would get him into Arles and spotlight he longed for so badly for altruistic reasons. That’s not how Vere worked, certainly not Veretian politics. As soon as Guion and his wife got out of sight and earshot, he quickly admitted he knew Laurent was lying.

_ "Why did you lie about meeting me? We both know we never talked to each other, despite what you said to my father and the king." _

_ “I need someone to help me with getting rid of Councillor Guion and you seemed like my best bet,” Laurent said at the time. _

_ “Why would I help you with disposing my own father?” _

_ “Perhaps because he treats you like shit and doesn’t give you any attention, only using you when it suits him. I wonder if he already invited guests into your home?” _

_ Thankfully, Aimeric didn’t know what Laurent was referring to in the last sentence. The weight Laurent didn’t even realize he was holding on his shoulders had fallen off. _

_ “Even if I wanted to help you, why would I? My father losing his position would make it worse for myself, I am his son…” _

_ “I don’t plan to exile your father or anything. I plan to… exchange him with your mother.” _

Now, the one sitting on the Council was Loyse and both Auguste and Laurent found her much more agreeable when it came to many issues. Guion was stuck in a home prison after a scandal with him cheating on his wife broke his reputation.

“That one was fun. I still remember the face he made when King Auguste and the rest of the Council literally caught him with his pants down.”

Laurent snickered.

“But that one time when old Herode caught us with oil and thought we are either having too much sex or trying to burn down the library, that was the most akward moment of my entire life.”

“When he caught us or the lecture about bees and flowers afterwards?”

“Probably when he tried to explain how Pets worked. It was too horrible for both me _ and _him.”

“At least he didn’t tell my brother.”

“Thank gods for small mercies, I don’t think I would have survived such a lecture twice, let alone from the King himself.”

“And we did manage to uncover lord Janvier’s plan to skimp on his taxes, so it all turned out fine, no?”

“But my mind shall never forget. Now spit it out, what are you planning this time?”

Laurent hesitated, watching his friend's face. He truly started thinking of Aimeric as a friend in the last two years. There was a big age gap between them, yes, but they had a similar sense of humour and similar… well, willingness to start shit, as Damen would likely put it. Some of their actions really happened because it fit into Laurent’s plans to clean up Arles, but some were simply because it was fun and he didn’t get much fun last time around.

“You won’t like it.”

“We both know I will help you anyway.”

“You won’t like it extremely this time. I plan to sneak into Delpha.”

“Did I hear you right? Do you realize that’s Akielos and still basically enemy territory, right? Do you want to get kidnapped again?”

“Yes, yes and no. I plan to meet Akielon people.”

“Like, random ones? Or-”

“I have someone specific in mind.”

Aimeric suddenly lounged and grabbed the letter Laurent was holding in his hands. 

“Would this someone be ‘most esteemed brother of Akielos’?” 

“Perhaps. I got an echo he might be visiting his friends next month and I plan to meet him there.”

Aimeric sighed. 

“Looks like we are going to Akielos.”

***

“This is a bad idea, Your Highness.”

Jord’s voice was muffled, as he was trying to keep his balance, with Laurent standing on his shoulders.

“Duly noted.”

“I wonder if king Auguste will skin us alive or throw us in a dungeon…” Orlant said conversationally, trying to keep watch in the dark. They were basically invisible, only light of stars illuminating them, yet he still looked around worriedly.

“Auguste thinks I am at Acquitart, hunting foxes. Not even in his wildest dreams he would expect me to do this. Plus, Aimeric can play a good impression of sick me… Nobody will ever miss us.”

Both guards exchanged looks and sighed. King Auguste chose them personally as experienced and practical men from humble origins. They were supposed to keep a watch on the young heir and report to their liege. Instead, they ended up being pulled into more craziness, like usual.

“You told Aimeric we would approach the Akielons openly, that you have friends here. So why are we sneaking in the middle of the night?” Jord despaired.

“I do have friends here, but inside. Not like the guards know me and I really don’t want to announce my presence to every dumbass in the vicinity.”

“So you will climb? In these clothes?”

Usually, Laurent dressed in a more practical fashion and light clothes. Today, his attire was the most traditional Veretian you could think of. Nobody would mistake him for anything but a pampered Veretian noble.

“You should at least take a weapon with you,” Orlant grumbled.

“But that’s the point,” Laurent said. “I need to look like the most harmless, idiotic Veretian in case I get caught. If I have a weapon on me, they will think I am a spy or assassin or something to that effect. Without it, they are honor-bound to capture me alive and question me.”

“Are you really relying on Akielon honor?” Jord said sourly. 

If it was a random Akielon soldier, no, Laurent would not expect him to act in this way. However, he was familiar with Nikandros’ way of conduct and his soldiers. It was his fort he was trying to get inside and his guards and they would never harm an intruder if it was a young, unarmed man. 

“Okay, keep watch. I am going to climb now. Try to stay out of sight.”

“Take the job with the prince, they said, it will be easy, they said,” Jord mumbled, but stayed put.

Fort of Marlas was a considerable building. Its walls have been built to be impenetrable, to protect it’s inhabitants against siege. It had perfect defenses against strong military force, but not against a single individual, who knew it’s every nook and cranny by memory.

Some time after Kastor was defeated in their previous life, but before their marriage, both Damen and Laurent stayed there. By chance, they found a place where you could climb in without being seen if you were agile enough. It certainly helped with secret meeting and assignations… Nothing like a thrill when trying to get out of your rooms before dawn, so that the rest of the fort didn’t know whose bed you shared. They probably knew anyway, but the principle of the thing! 

Damen ordered the route to be repaired and barred in later years, so that the enemy wouldn’t be able to use it, but that happened in later years. Laurent was reasonably sure that at this point of time, it still remained, a perfect way to get into Damen’s chambers unseen. 

He carefully put one hand above the other, holding his breath when a guard looked his way with a torch. They were trained to look around, though not up, so Laurent escaped the man’s notice. Soon, his nimble fingers touched a windowsill. Carefully, carefully, he rose and stuck a leg in the window, only to be greeted by a shocked face.

“What. the. fuck?”

Of course it made sense. When Laurent and Damen were staying here, they used the study to talk. But now, the person who would be using the place for work would be the current owner of the fort… 

Nikandros’ face was slack with shock. Laurent quickly rolled himself inside, for escape would only rouse the whole fort anyway. Nikandros reacted quickly - he was still young and a trained soldier, much more experienced in hand to hand combat and soon Laurent found himself in a chokehold.

“Who are you and what is your purpose here?” he growled. Laurent went slack. Fighting against his captor would only make the situation worse. 

“I came to see the prince,” he got out, struggling with his breath. 

“So that you could put a poison dagger in him while he slept?” Nikandros spoke fluent Veretian - a necessity, since many of his subjects had Veretian ancestry and didn’t speak Akielon. 

“To… talk to him. I am unarmed!”

He could still feel Nikandros scepticism but the choke loosened. With one hand, Nikandros patted him down and Laurnet held himself extremely still. 

Suddenly, he was let go. Yet, Nikandros held a sword in his hand and the tip was basically touching Laurent’s chest.

“You are obviously a Veretian. What is your business with our prince?”

Laurent hedged his options. There were several things he could say, but he wasn’t that keen to reveal his identity. Nikandros was loyal to Damen, so if Damen ordered, Nikandros would not raise a fuss. But would Nik even approach his prince before acting? He was Kyros, the highest authority in these lands and he didn’t have to answer to a visiting heir. 

“I was… invited. To his chambers?” Laurent answered, making his voice sound unsure. 

He could feel the Nikandros’ eyes on him again, but now in a different manner. Previously, they were the eyes of a general, assessing the threat. Now, they were the eyes of a friend and what they found was obviously not to their liking.

“You are basically a kid! Are you trying to tell me he propositioned you?” Nikandros’ voice was incredulous. 

Laurent wanted to protest he was almost sixteen now, but in the end, went with “We-ell… It was dark?”

He painted a certain picture into Nikandros’ head. The man sighed. With eyes still on Laurent, he opened the door slightly.

“Bring Damianos here immediately. I don’t care what he is doing, fetch him from his bed for all I care, just get. Him. Here.”

The guard behind the door left quickly. Nikandros was still watching Laurent, but at least he lowered the sword.

“So, the Akielon prince offered you a place in his bed and you decided to do what, scale a wall? How come nobody saw you? Did you bribe some of my guards?”

“I am sure an army wouldn’t be able to get inside, but a single person agile enough, under the cover of the dark...” Laurent shrugged.

Nikandros’ face darkened. Laurent expected severe reprimand for guards on duty in the near future.

The awkward silence must have lasted only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity. The anticipation Laurent felt was growing. Soon, they will see each other.

The door finally opened.

“Did you call for me, Nikandros?” Damen was obviously woken from his slumber, the tunic only thrown quickly on, his hair disheveled.

“This whelp claims you invited him to your chambers.” Nikandros’ voice was full of barely concealed anger. “And that’s why he climbed. Climbed into my study!”

“... oh.”

One constant that remained with Damen, even after decades, was his face. It was always easy to read when he felt joy, the feeling transforming his features, his dimples pronounced. 

Laurent felt bashful. He didn’t actually mention in his letter he was going to visit when his husband let him know he was going to stay in Marlas for some time, visiting his best friend. He wasn’t sure it would get to Damen in time. And part of him wanted to surprise Damen, to see this joy on his face.

However, Laurent wasn’t the only one in this room who could read Damen well.

“What the fuck, Damen. How old do you think he is? Do you have any sense left? Do you go around in taverns, inviting random blonde Veretians to visit?”

“Uh…”

“Has your brain finally left you and got replaced by your dick?” 

Laurent couldn’t help himself and sniggered at that. Nik threw him an angry stare.

“Don’t you dare laugh, young man! I almost ran you through with my sword and you are laughing?”

It was nice to see that Nikandros haven’t changed, still acting like an old geezer even at twenty one. He obviously had no recollection of Laurent, didn’t remember their past lives - but it was still the same old Nikandros, who worried about them all the time.

“Nikandros, I didn’t proposition to him… “ Damen tried for a conciliatory tone. 

“I sure hope not, considering his age!”

“I invited him here, yes, but I expected him to go through the front door,” Damen said, giving Laurent a look.

“Front door isn’t fun.”

The smile on Damen’s lips was fond. 

“Why are you inviting Veretians to my fort? Without consulting me?” Nikandros said, still full of irritation. At least it wasn’t anger boiling over, like few seconds previously.

Suddenly, the door opened and a guard rushed inside.

“Kyros, kyros!”

“Unless the fort is on fire, I am busy!” Nik shoot back.

Guard quickly whispered something in Nikandros’ ear and the man paled. 

“Stay here, you two. I am not finished.”

“I wouldn’t even think of leaving,” Laurent replied and was rewarded with a glare. Nikandros quickly left after the guard, the door closing behind him with a slam.

“Did you actually orchestrate a diversion right now?” Damen said in wonder.

“I think you overestimate my capabilities,” Laurent laughed. “No, it's just a coincidence. I hope the fort isn’t really on fire.”

Damen came over and finally, finally touched him. His finger ran lightly through Laurent’s hair, like he was making sure his husband was really here.

“I missed you,” he said, quietly.

Laurent hugged him, trying to get as close as possible to the familiar, yet long absent feeling of Damen’s body. The comforting smell of safety and love was a balm to Laurent’s worries. 

“I missed you too. Do you know how many times I considered just running away to see you?”

“I tried to persuade my father to get me diplomatic invite to Arles, but he isn’t very keen on Veretians lately. Not to mention he was advised to keep me away from Veretians in general.” Damen made a face.

“How so?” Laurent wiggled even closer, if such a thing was possible.

“I… might have mentioned to someone I am in love with blond veretian noble and now… that person thinks I am in love with Auguste.”

Laurent burst out laughing. “Oh, Damen, I knew you are into blondes, but even my brother is not safe from your affections?”

“Laugh it up, yeah,” Damen said, rolling his eyes. “Not like I could say I am in love with you, you are still a baby!” Damen squished Laurent’s cheeks. Laurent swatted his hands away, but Damen caught them and held them, affection clear in his eyes.

Laurent sighed. “Be glad you are not living through puberty for a second time, it’s pure torture. It’s like the opposite of being old, when mind willed it but body couldn’t catch up. Now my body is too willing and my mind is like… _ no _.”

They didn’t actually talk about being intimate yet. It was too… difficult of a topic to raise in the letters and even now, face to face, Laurent struggled voicing his thoughts. He had adult mind in teenage body, instincts and rational thoughts warring in him.

“Laurent, you know I would never pressure you into anything, right? I had my share of sexual escapades in my past life. Even if we live the second one celibate, just being near you, I am content. And we have time, plenty of it.”

“Of course I know that! I just… I miss you. I miss us. In every sense of the word. But it’s… difficult.”

He could feel his cheeks flaming. Damen stroked his hair again and lightly kissed him on the brow.

They stood for a moment in silence, sharing embrace.

As soon as they heard the heavy footsteps in the hall, they quickly separated.

Nikandros went inside, his face full of storm clouds. It wasn’t just anger now - it was worry, of the serious kind. Nikandros wore this expression during councils of war or when the famine was threatening the kingdom, not when he was worried about his best friend’s heart.

“Damianos,” he said. “Is he,” pointedly not looking at Laurent, “the prince of Vere? The brother of the current king?”

Nikandros knew how Auguste looked like. They met several times before, both on the battlefield and during diplomatic negotiations. But he wasn’t there during that first fateful night in the tent. He was still mourning his father, who passed away during the battle and left the responsibility of being Kyros on Nikandros’ shoulders. He never met Laurent, he wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Unless someone told him.

Damen wouldn’t lie to his friend, not when asked directly and Nikandros knew it.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

Finally, Nikandros put his eyes on Laurent. 

“Your Highness. Your brother is here. He is waiting in the hall.”

Laurent and Damen both shared a worried glance. Why was Auguste here? 

They both followed Nikandros as in a daze, flanked by a group of guards. 

Soon, they saw him.

It was truly Auguste, dressed in a travelling attire, his jacket dusted as if he rode the whole day just to get there. And next to him, Aimeric, frowning.

“I am sorry, Laurent, I had to tell him.” He said, before Laurent could get any words out.

The young prince started at his brother.

“Laurent,” Augusted said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go with a time-skip, for several reasons - to speed things up a bit, and also because I found out Laurent's plans are astonisthingly difficult to write! I am not as smart as him, sorry guys.
> 
> Laurent is 16 years old now, Aimeric 15, Damen 21.
> 
> I also added a bit of backstory for Nikandros - i always found it strange that he so young (afaik he is very close to Damen in age) held such a powerful political position. So I made up his poor father who died at the battle field. Adds another reason why Nik really doesnt like Veretians, ha. Also, he is more straighfoward/rude with Damen because Damen isn't his king yet. 
> 
> I am sorry about the cliffhanger, by the way! Hang in there, dear readers! And let me know what you think! :)


	8. The one to persuade

Few days after Damen returned from his visit to Heston, Theomedes called him to his chambers for an audience.

Damen felt a strange sort of anxiety at the prospect. He wouldn’t call it fear, and he would like to believe he was beyond the need of his father’s approval, at his ripe age of almost ninety, yet the prospect of his father’s disappointment seemed… terrifying. He had to steel himself before entering, when his father’s secretary let him in.

The office felt wrong or maybe just different. Damen did a lot of changes during his stay here, chief of the most was releasing the slaves who now stood near the entrance, ready for their king’s beck and call. But even the most small details like the missing plants near the window or the heavy stone serving as paperweight. It used to be a place for him to feel focused and calm, where he often wondered what his father would do in this political situation or another. Now, he didn’t have to wonder anymore. 

“Exalted,” Damen said.

“My son.” Theomedes beckoned to an expensive, padded chair, decorated with heads of lions as armrests. Another feature that Damianos didn’t have in his own version of this room.

They were quiet for a moment, watching each other. Theomedes seemed older now, thinner. Was he eating properly? Damianos remembered his father’s lost appetite, especially in their last days together. The once proud man looks more like a skeleton in his last moments.

“Heston wrote to me.”

“Did he?” Damen was reasonably sure Heston wouldn’t betray his confidence. That was not what he was worried about.

“He asked me to be patient with you.”

Damen nodded. Seemed like something Heston would say to his father.

Theomedes rose from his chair, sighing heavily. He looked at the white sea cliffs, visible from the window, where the waves fought against the sharp rocks. 

“You have changed, my son. I suppose it was only a matter of time for you to grow up.”

“That’s how time works, yes.”

There was a glint in Theomedes’ eyes. “Don’t get cheeky with me, Damianos. You think I didn’t notice you moping? Heston didn’t mention anything specific, but I am not an idiot. Lot of the ideas you spout now aren’t from your own head.”

“You said yourself that I changed. I have learned things I didn’t realize previously,” Damen protested.

“Like that you are in love?” Theomedes snorted. “I remember when I was your age. Hot blooded, acting first and no care for consequences.”

Damen wanted to say he wasn’t like his father. But wasn’t he? Lot of people commented how similar they were, in their proud bearings and military prowess, but also in the way they plowed through opposition, too stubborn to stop before it was too late.

“I do not care who you bed, but as my heir, you have a responsibility to carry our bloodline. You are of age to start searching for wife.”

Last time, Theomedes didn't interfere in this matter. Yet now he did act - Damen had to wonder what changed. Was it just him or?

Theomedes suddenly looked sad and older. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did, my son.”

“So you will force me to same position?” Damen had to retort. “You can see I am in love and you suspect it's someone you wouldn’t approve of, so this is your solution?”

“We, as kings, don’t have the same freedoms our people do. We have a duty.”

“Yes, what a fine duty it is, ruining our family in the process,” Damen said, unable to hide his bitterness. “You chose a noble wife, yet she couldn’t bear a child. You loved a peasant woman, who could, but whose child would always be second best if your wife bore you an heir. And second best wasn’t enough, so my mother had to die in order for our bloodline be preserved!”

They never talked about this. Never discussed his mother’s death nor the status of Hypermenestra, beautiful yet of low birth. Her son, raised to be a king, only to be discarded the second another child started crying in a crib.

“Your mother chose this!” Theomedes shouted, fury distorting his features. “She longed for the child of her own. The doctors warned her her health was fragile, but she…” He shook his head.

“Past is past. You have a chance to be different, marry someone from fertile family, so this can be avoided.”

“Past is past indeed. But father, I can’t help but wonder if I will even live to marry someone and sit upon the throne you so wish to bestow of me.”

His father turned sharply, finally looking him in the eyes.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice Kastor didn't let go of his wish to be the king. We are not children anymore - it won’t be a training accident next time.”

“He will learn his place.” Theomedes said.

“Will he? He is old enough now to know better.”

“Are you accusing your brother of treason?”

Heavy silence hung in the air.

“No. I just don’t want a throne that will have my family’s blood on it. You have spoken of tradition, of duty… But father, isn’t it time for us to do things differently?”

“Our people-”

“I am sure our people would appreciate not to face civil war.”

Theomedes went silent once more, his brows furrowed, watching the gulls sing.

“I was right. You truly have changed, Damianos. In the past, you would not think to challenge my ideas.”

“Is it such a bad thing, dad?”

“I suppose not. All sons must learn to surpass their fathers.”

Carefully, Damen went closer to Theomedes and gently touched his shoulder. As they got older, it was rarer and rarer for them to touch. Damianos remembered when he was a small babe, crying for his papa, being engulfed in a bear hug. How he loved when his father put him on his shoulders, and Damen could see everything. Yet, with age, it was like their paths have diverged. They were a king and his heir, not father and son. 

“Dad. I know you want our country to prosper. But don’t you also want your sons to be happy? I know you love Kastor.”

Even when Kastor almost murdered his own brother, claiming a training accident, Theomedes didn’t punish him much. He must have known his bastard son true intentions - everyone knew, except for Damen himself. They just didn’t talk about it. 

“Of course I love my sons. But when a king has to choose between his own family and kingdom, he must always choose the kingdom.”

“Maybe you don’t have to choose.”

With these words, it was like a horrible weight was raised from Theomedes shoulders. It was like he didn’t even think of another option, the only way for him was the one he himself was raised him.

Damen remembered when he thought the same. Kingdom, or this. His love or his crown. Yet, as the time passed, Damen learned that there were always more than two choices, that sometimes, you could have both. 

“You have something specific in mind, I can see that,” Theomedes said.

“That I do, father. I certainly do.”

His visit to Heston gave him time to think and strategize. Maybe it was time for a different path than the one that was walked on his previous lifetime.

***

He and his father talked long into the night, and the several days after. Theomedes still wasn’t fully convinced, Damen could see his desire to see his sons prosper fight with the tradition of his country. But there were already cracks in his father’s conviction.

Ironically, Kastor was helping matters with his surly attitude. The long and important discussions which didn’t include him grated at him and it was plain to see. Just like Damen, Kastor didn’t have much talent in deception. He was better at it than Damen himself, but when you knew what to look for, the jealousy was obvious. Damen wondered how long it would take before Kastor broke. He just hoped the issues were resolved before Kastor reached his breaking point.

He watched Regent carefully, hoping the man wouldn’t muddy the waters. Yet no matter how hard he looked, the slimy eel didn’t do any obvious missteps. Nothing he could be implicated for, nothing that would break the laws of hospitality. The man was perfectly polite to both nobles and the staff, and no children were reported to be near him. Allegedly, he rarely wrote to others, except for the reports to his king, which Damen read. They were… ordinary. He even checked for all Veretian secret codes he knew (and there were plenty of them - Laurent wasn’t stingy in his previous life), however, he found nothing.

Damen kept continuous correspondence with his husband. The letters were one bright part of his life, always something to look forward to. Laurent didn’t admit it, but Damen could feel the joy pouring from the words and how much his love was enjoying himself. Damen often chuckled aloud when he read about the shenanigans Laurent and Aimeric partook in, one more sillier and elaborate than last. And it was just not teenage fun, for Laurent was busy. He pinpointed all the supporters Regent had in court, and slowly dismantled their power structure. Damen had to admit that ruining Guion with marital scandal was a work of genius. With Loyse in a role of a poor betrayed wife, having to step in her treacherous husband’s shoes, Laurent neatly removed his biggest current threat and exchanged him for his staunch supporter.

He still missed him, that he did. At least the work helped. Some days, Damen was so busy he didn’t think of Laurent’s smile until his head hit the soft pillows of his bed. There was politicking to be done, people to persuade. He didn’t approach it in a covert manner like Laurent did, that wasn’t his style. He invited nobles for competitions and hunts, fought in bouts with generals and soldiers, attended feasts and philosophical debates. 

Slowly, people accepted his change in demeanor and especially his attitude to slavery. He claimed to prefer working staff to improve relations with neighbouring countries and freed most of his household. Most choose to remain with him anyway, only now they were paid and could freely leave to buy their own items on the market or visit relatives. The only one who refused freedom was the sweet Lykaois. With demurred eyes, she begged Damianos to keep her as a bed slave, utterly distraught by his refusal to make love.

“Lykaois, don’t you want to be free?” Damen asked her.

She had tears in her eyes, weeping silently. 

The bed slaves were always the worst to free. Unlike the workers, they didn’t have much skills suited for usual jobs - they were trained in singing and playing instruments, dancing, entertainment, yes. But most of their training was focused on how to best please their masters and they were passive, initiative long removed from their character. In his previous life, some of them ended up as prostitutes, abused in cheap brothels. They weren’t like pets, eager and willing to fight for their place and money they were owed for their work or like the akielon equivalent, the hetaerae*, women and men who entertained and provided companionship for their rich clients. It was too easy for bad people to take advantage of them.

Damen sighed. “You can stay, if you wish, but I won’t bed you anymore, Lykaois.”

“Anything to stay close to master,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She still sang to him, prepared his bedding and brought him food. He could see her some nights, hovering near the door with hope, but he never called on her. As time passed, she stopped.

Damen soon got into routine and time passed quickly. Few times, he suggested to visit Vere for diplomatic negotiations, but his father refused. He didn’t offer any explanation, though Damen had an inkling Theomedes suspected something about Damen’s wish to go. He didn’t push - he was already on thin ice with his plan and while he yearned to see Laurent again, he knew his father was stubborn and some things weren’t negotiable.

He didn’t even think about it much when he mentioned in a letter to Laurent he was to visit Nikandros. He claimed to his father he wanted to see how the situation in Delpha progressed, but Theomedes patted him on the back and laughed. “You wish to see your friend. Go, Damianos. I am sure Nikandros will be delighted to learn of your visit.”

True, the fort of Marlas was quite close to the new border, but Damen doubted Laurent would have time and opportunity to slip by, just so they could see each other. Still, he hoped. Oh, he hoped so much.

And in the end, his hopes were fulfilled. 

***

Damen watched prince Auguste, standing in his- in Nik’s fort, dusty and tired from the road. The young king changed since Damen saw him last. He aged, first lines of wrinkles appearing next to his eyes. 

“Laurent,” Auguste said, Aimeric hovering nervously next to him. Damen never met Aimeric while he was younger, but it was obviously him - the same brown curls and desperate expression, at least. Jord and Orlant also stood nearby, looking nervous as hell, the guards who knew they fucked up.

“Brother,” Laurent said. A stranger would call his voice emotionless, thought Damen could read the uncertainty in it.

“Can you give us some privacy?” Auguste turned to Nikandros and Damen. Nik was frowning, his mouth pinched. 

“I have a king in my castle and diplomatic incident on the verge of happening. I am not sure we can afford that, Your Majesty,” Nikandros said, pointedly.

“This isn’t a… political issue. It's a family issue, Kyros.” Auguste protested.

“Aren’t all family issues concerning the ruling family political issue? You are free to leave if you want no listening ears, but first I require explanation.”

Damen quickly stepped in. “Ah, this whole affair is just a small misunderstanding on my part. I wrote young prince Laurent regularly and I have mentioned I would like to see him in Marlas… “

“He is old enough to know sneaking into Akielon fort is not done,” Auguste interrupted. “If you invited him, why is he hiding it from his guardian and his liege? Why is he climbing under the cover of darkness?”

“Auguste, I-”

“If the Kyros won’t give us privacy, then I have no choice but to ask this question publicly. I have heard some rumours of your… preferences, prince Damianos. I would hate to think you are taking advantage of my brother.”

Behind him, Nikandros sighed. 

Damen weighed his options. He could feel Laurent struggling to keep quiet, probably knowing that at this point, his words would do more harm than good. 

“On the honor of my ancestors, nothing untoward has happened. But-”

Auguste raised an eyebrow and Laurent shot him a look, yet Damen continued undeterred. “But I must admit I care for Laurent a great deal.”

Nikandros groaned slightly.

“Do you,” said Auguste. The atmosphere got noticeably chilly. 

“Yes.” Damen stood firm. “I had planned to ask for your permission to court him officially.”

“Court him, as in-” Auguste’s voice was incredulous.

“Ask for his hand in marriage.”

Everybody in the room except for Auguste and Laurent gasped. Aimeric looked scandalized, but more in the vein of someone who learned delicious piece of gossip. Jord and Orlant just looked plain surprised and while Damen couldn’t see Nikandros behind him, he had a feeling his friend had his head in his hands. Auguste’s face, on the other hand, was pure stone. And Laurent… Laurent had a slight flush on his cheeks. 

“I don’t know if you are a romantic idiot or a liar, prince Damianos,” Auguste said, his voice low. “Do you want me to believe your family will let you marry a man, when you are the heir to the throne? Creating a union that can never produce children, such king would be a laughingstock!”

“Watch your words!” Nikandros said in response, his hand on a sword hilt. “You may be the king, but you are trespassing on our land and even insulting our prince to his face?”

Yet it was like Auguste didn’t hear those words, rage showing in his features. “Did you plan this, Damianos? To catch my brother in compromising situation, ruin his reputation, blackmail him? Was it my uncle who put these ideas into your head? Perhaps you are like him, preferring to bed children instead of-”

“Auguste, that’s enough!” It was Laurent’s voice, the one he used when sitting on his throne, commanding attention and obedience. The tone shocked his brother into silence. 

“Stop treating me like a child and think,” Laurent said. “Continue,” he nodded towards Damen.

They exchanged a glance. It was time to lie cards down on the table. They discussed their plans before in writing, but it was only tentative possibilities for the future. Now, it seemed, they needed to be put into motion.

“I won’t rule Akielos.” Damen said. “My brother Kastor will inherit the throne.”

The one who reacted was Nikandros. “What? But Kastor-”

“Kastor is a bastard…” Auguste added.

“So? In Akielos, we had bastard kings before. He is the older brother, its by right he should sit on the throne. I am free to marry whoever I want.”

Both Auguste and Nikandros gaped like a fish, in a moment of rare solidarity between Akielos and Vere. 

“I think we intruded enough on Kyros Nikandros’ time,” Laurent said after a moment of silence. “It’s time to leave, I can see we are all eager to talk in private.”

He firmly grasped his brother by the arm and with last departing wink, dragged him off. Jord and Orlant meekly followed, flanked by Aimeric.

As soon as they left the room, Nikandros turned to Damen. To say that Damen wasn’t looking forward to hearing Nik’s opinion on this subject would be an understatement of the century. 

“I want this explained in detail.” Nik’s tone broke no argument. At this point, there was no looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update, I have been swamped with work! Hope you all enjoyed the new chapter. :) Let me know what you think and where do you think the story is heading, I always love reading your comments! 
> 
> And yes, both Nik and Auguste will have a looong talk next time. ;)


	9. Truth revealed

Laurent led Auguste into stables, where they were likely to get some privacy. Proud Akielon horses stood next to tired Veretian breeds, who brought their king. 

“Wait outside,” he said to Aimeric, Jord and Orlant following them.

“But-” Aimeric protested. Laurent raised an eyebrow at him and shut the door.

“Are you sure we won’t be overheard here?” Auguste asked dubiously, looking around the space.

“I am sure,” Laurent said. There were many discussions he and Damen had here in their previous life The sound didn’t carry here. Also, not only discussions… But no, he must not get sidetracked.

“So, how long has been Aimeric spying for you?”

Auguste had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “Since the beginning. I knew you didn’t actually talk to him during the winter games as you claimed, because you were hiding in your room the whole time.”

Damn. Laurent’s memory was good, but for him, this event happened too many decades ago and was not memorable in any way. On the other hand, for Auguste, it was only a few years ago, no wonder he recalled it.

He felt a bit… hurt by this. Did his brother not trust him? The thought must have shown on his face, because Auguste sighed.

“Laurent, I do trust you but I am worried about you. You changed a great deal, much more than I would expect from mere growing up. It’s like my sweet brother was swapped with an old man sometimes.”

Laurent flushed. Looks like this acting skills weren’t as good as he thought. Or was it because Auguste knew him so well?

“And now I get a missive from panicked Aimeric you are planning to sneak into Akielon fort. All those shenanigans before seemed harmless, but you must realize this could hurt our country! We are too weak to face another war, if the Akielons realize you have been toying with them-”

“Toying with them?” Laurent asked, confused.

“Do you really think I would consider that oaf Damianos capable of manipulating you? I know you are trying to help Vere… However, don’t you think seducing their heir into abdicating is bit too much? I hope to alleviate their suspicion by insulting Damianos, yet…”

“You… you did that on purpose,” Laurent realized. He underestimated his brother. It was something he would have done, played emotions to divert someone’s attention, and especially men of Akielos were easily manipulated this way. Auguste didn’t actually think Damianos was corrupting his brother, oh no. He thought the opposite - that Laurent himself was leading Damianos astray, to put Akielos into civil unrest. The worst part was that Laurent could see himself doing such a thing, yet he felt bitterness on his tongue about such an assumption.

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you addled his mind that much, for him to consider leaving the throne! Laurent, whatever did you promise to him? I know he is Akielon, but isn’t that cruel, even for you?”

“Is it really that improbable that I could love him?” Laurent said in a small voice.

“Must you keep lying to my face?” Auguste said, his voice weary. 

Laurent expected lot of reactions from his brother when Auguste finally learned of his and Damen’s entanglement. He hoped for understanding and blessing, dreaded anger and disapproval. Yet this, this seemed even worse. How could Auguste not see it? Many people in past life remarked how he was so obviously in love, Nikandros often complained about “keeping their lovey-dovey stuff out of work meetings”. However, now his own brother did not believe his feelings. Was it because he never saw Laurent in love before? Or was it a Veretian trait, to think the worst of one’s family? 

It hurt, more that Laurent expected. It wasn’t the first time he was accused of seducing Damianos for his own goals, yes. But for his own brother to think it… 

“Laurent, tell me the truth,” Auguste pressed on.

“You want the truth, then? I can give it to you, but it's not the truth you are expecting and not the one you will like.”

“If truth was pleasant, people would always be honest.”

“All cards on the table, then.” Laurent said and took a deep breath. 

He and Damen discussed it a few times in letters, the possibility of saying the truth. Would they be called madmen or dreamers? It was just easier to pretend nothing was wrong, that they haven’t walked this path once before, that they were young people instead of ancient ones. But lies do have their ways of catching up to us, don’t they?

“Do you remember that one night before Marlas, when I barged into your room and asked if you were dead?”

“What does that have to do with anything? But yes, of course I remember. You were very upset.”

“You thought I had a nightmare. And I suppose you could call it some sort of dream… If whole other lives were dreams.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have lived through this once before, Auguste. I remember reaching thirty, being married, having kids. I remember dying at age eighty-four, only to awake again in this body, thirteen and young.”

“That’s -”

“Madness, you were trying to say? Impossible? Ask Damianos, he will tell you the same.”

“Damianos?” Auguste was thoroughly confused now.

“He was the one I was married to in my previous life.”

“And I agreed to that?” For now, Auguste was rolling with it, though his brows were still pinched in thought.

“You were dead. I was the only living member of our family at that point.”

“Laurent, I don’t understand.”

“I wish I could give you any rational explanation, but I don’t have one. It just happened.”

“So when do I die?” Auguste said, his tone joking.

“I have no clue,” Laurent admitted. “In my previous life, you fell during the battle of Marlas, as did father. I did my utmost to keep you alive this time.”

Best not to mention how exactly Auguste died. That would just add to the antipathy he had towards Damen.

“And uncle?”

Laurent gave Auguste a look. “What do you think?”

The horrified silence that followed was very telling.

“He wanted to have me executed for treason before I reached adulthood, if you must know. Without Damen’s help, I would have perished. In the end, it was uncle’s head on the chopping block, not mine. Yet it was a very near thing.”

“I can understand alliance in such circumstances, but surely now, the situation is very different?”

Laurent sighed. How to put it so that Auguste would understand?

“When I and Damen first met, I thought of him as you do, or worse.” Definitely worse. For Auguste, it was just tradition of dislike and prejudice, for Laurent, it was deeply personal. “Yet despite the way I treated him, all the subtle cruelties and the not so subtle… He treated me like an equal. He had many opportunities to leave me to my fate, to let me die in ambush or stranded. He never did. He was willing to lower himself just so he could save people who were his responsibility. He is so… bone-deeply decent and loyal it sometimes surprises me to this day.”

Laurent laughed a bit, his expression fond. “When I was on trial for my supposed treason, Damianos marched there, despite the fact it endangered his own life. And basically said ‘no way Laurent would ever do this, he is too much of a good person and I love him’.”

“That doesn’t sound very… smart.” Auguste noted, his voice carefully neutral.

“He is actually very smart, just not good at deceit and too honest in his dealings. He speaks languages better than I do and is brilliant in tactics. I had to teach him to stop assuming everyone was as forthright as him, though.”

Auguste was quiet for a moment, moving to caress the mane of his horse. 

“If you and him were ordinary people, would you still want to marry him?” He asked after a while.

“Of course,” Laurent said without any hesitation. Those days were they traveled their country in disguise as merchants were one of his fondest memories. 

“You really do love him,” Auguste’s voice had a note of wonder. “Well, that changes things.”

“What? I thought we were leaving?” Laurent replied in confusion as Auguste moved back away from his horse and towards the door.

“Are you expecting me to leave after I heard all this? Oh no, I am gonna talk to Damianos properly this time,” Auguste said.

***

Damen watched as Nik paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“I know what you are thinking,” Damen said, coming from a long learned knowledge of his best friend’s character. “Either I tried to seduce a kid who turned out to be a Veretian prince or I got misled by a manipulative Veretian snake and you cannot decide which is worse.”

“Can’t it be both?” Nikandros almost barked at him. “I can’t believe you, Damianos. He is pretty, I suppose, but too young - and to give up a crown for him? Are you absolutely mad?”

It was refreshing to see Nikandros speak so plainly. They went more… formal, Damen supposed, after he was crowned king. 

“To be honest, the main reason for that decision wasn’t him, but Kastor.”

“Kastor? What did  _ he _ do?” Nik spit out the pronoun with such venom it sounded worse than any insult. 

“Nothing this time. But I realized I will have to step down if I want to keep both of us alive.”

Nikandros’ eyes widened with shock and Damen chuckled ruefully. 

“Yes, yes, you were right. I should be wary of him. He tried to kill me at least once, possibly more times.”

“On the one hand, I am glad to hear you finally believe my warnings. On the other, you solution to all this is… to step down? To give up?”

“If I don’t, he will either try to kill me again or to start civil war. Either he will succeed or I will be forced to kill in self-defense or execute him. It’s not an appealing prospect for me. So, yes, if I give him what he really wants, I think we can both live happily then.”

Nik frowned. “Even if you formally abdicate, won’t you still be a threat to his position?”

“Perhaps. Less so if I marry a man, and a man Kastor wouldn’t want to anger.”

“Not sure if I would call that whelp a ‘man’, but I see your point. I still don’t like this, Damen. You will - you would be a great king. People love you. Don’t they deserve someone like you on a throne?”  _ Don’t I deserve someone I wish to follow? _ went unspoken. 

Damen was silent. If he wasn’t a king before, if he never ruled and sit on the throne, he would probably never consider it. Yet the years he spent ruling gave him perspective. He sighed. 

“Nik… I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“I figured.”

“Probably not in the way you have been thinking, though.”

Nik gave him a look that spoke volumes. He was always Damen’s staunchest supporter - from the time they were kids, running around in Ios, playing hide and seek, to their time on the battlefield, standing side by side. He was a true brother, in every sense of the word except by blood. Something that Kastor sadly lacked. But Nik never had to fight for his time in the spotlight - he was always the heir, the oldest trueborn son who only had sisters, beloved by his deceased father. Did Nik ever consider a different fate that to be Kyros, to be a loyal follower of the ruling family? 

“Do you remember the fairy tale of Psyché and Kardion?”

“What? The star crossed lovers who died tragically and met again in the next life?”

“Yes. And-”

“Wait. Don’t tell me you are trying to say… what? This is your ‘next life’”? Nik said.

“Pretty much. I ruled as a king of Akielos, married Laurent of Vere, died of illness… Woke up here again as a young man.”

“That doesn’t seem very tragic.”

“It was a happy life, yet there were still some regrets. One of them was my brother. It was only once he stabbed me I realized my error in misjudging him.”

Nikandros face clouded. “The fucker did that? Did you at least stab him back?”

“Eh. Let’s say he died soon after.”

“So you didn’t. Damen…”

“You seem to be taking this pretty well. No disbelief? Checking if my mind is alright?”

“Maybe if you were a different kind of man, Damen. But you would never lie about something like this… and your personality changed too much for it to be just a result of addled-mind. You think I didn’t notice you act differently now? The way you carry yourself. You speak like a king now.”

Laurent was right. Damen was not a very good actor… Oh well. The cat was out of the bag now, no need for pretend. Damen certainly preferred it now - he hated having to lie to his best friend, even if the lie was sensible.

“One thing I still don’t understand. If you were a king, why would you give it up? Did your kingdom face some sort of tragedy? Were you a bad ruler?”

“No, it’s because I already did it before. I know what it's like, all the intricacies, the troubles and the responsibilities. I think I ruled well - but I believe Kastor can as well, if he has the right counsel and support. For ordinary people, it doesn't matter who sits on the throne, as long as they get treated fairly. I already had my turn and if the throne makes Kastor happy, I am willing to give it to him.”

Nikandros sighed. “You did change, Damianos.” 

“Did I? I would like to think that in some ways, I am still the young man you remember, Nik. You were always my truest friend. Do I have your support?”

“Damen. I might disagree with you, I might find some of your ideas collosaly idiotic, but you always have my support. Always have, always will, you must know that.”

“Even when it comes to certain blond haired individuals?”

Nik grinded his teeth. “I still don’t like him. But at least I know now why you are trying to woo him and why he tries to scale my damn walls.”

“Give him time. He grows on you. He certainly did in my previous life.”

“I hope I fought that kicking and screaming,” Nik retorted and Damen laughed out loud. Some things never change, no matter the lifetime.

***

Nikandros and Damen were still talking when Laurent and rest of Veretians returned. From the snips of conversation uttered, Laurent quickly gathered it went in pretty similar ways his did, if maybe a little less… emotionally.

“In a spirit of cooperation, I propose to forget about this whole… scale-walling incident and pretend it never happened,” Nikandros said, thought it obviously took a lot from him. He was still scowling in their direction, as if look scorching enough could reveal the inner workings of Laurent’s mind and heart.

“Agreed. And if Damianos wishes to continue his association with my brother, he should keep to official channels.” Auguste said.

“And the courting?” Damen cut straight to the chase.

“Wait till Laurent is eighteen. Then… it's up to him if he accepts your propositions or not. Just no sneaking around.”

Meaning Auguste didn’t plan to interfere… Whether he would give his blessing was another question, but they had enough time for that.

“Well, glad to have that chat. Now please get out of my fort, Your Majesty,” Nik said and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latter half of the chapter is unbeta'ed, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes! (I wanted to get it to you as soon as possible)
> 
> What are your thoughts on our progression? 
> 
> And what are your thoughts about Nik? While most other character have definite end planned for them in this fic, I admit I still haven't figured out where to take him. What kind of ending would you like to see for him? Bonus points for unusual ideas!


	10. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bad case of writer's block, I admit. However, I got some very kind words on my tumblr recently, which gave me some of the passion for writing back, so here's another chapter!   
I decided to go with a different aproach to break the block, so you have three different POVs of characters who previously did not have one. Enjoy!

Auguste watched his brother as he worked. When Laurent was concentrating, the change in his demeanor was obvious. He wrote with a quiet dignity and crease in his eyebrows, giving him air of someone much older. Like this, Auguste could see the traces of the kingship in his younger brother. It was a bittersweet thought, like he lost some part of his sibling, not seeing him truly grow up. He hadn’t seen the first loves of his brother, first heartbreaks and first changes… Instead, he already got a boy fully matured, burdened by worry and memories of an old man. Yet they were together and alive. Didn’t that count for something? 

“Is something the matter, Auguste?” Laurent raised his head.

“Nothing… Or well. I was thinking.”

“That’s good. Peasants like a king who is capable of that,” Laurent joked.

“What do you think of the new tax reform I proposed?” Auguste blurted out. “Did you try something similar in your past life?”

Laurent watched him shrewdly, the look too old for his young face. He then said: “Yes, indeed. It ended up with two riots and one assasination attempt. Someone tried to poison my figs.”

“What?” Auguste started reconsidering his options.

“I am joking, Auguste. I have no idea how your tax reform will go. We never implemented something similar and even if we did, our country was different. The political situation was different, the people as well. But if you are asking for my opinion as a ruler and not as a time traveler, it looks sound. It should be successful.”

“You scared me there for a bit…” Auguste admitted. Laurent abandoned his writing and scooted closer to his brother. 

“I just don’t want to act as if I am some fountain of knowledge of future events. I have no idea what will happen. Just by you being alive, so much has changed already,” he shrugged. “Think of my past life as… a myth. Memory. Not reliable information to form your life around.”

“Yet you are planning to do exactly that,” Auguste pointed out.

Laurent blushed at that. “Only when it comes to my marriage.”

They sat for a while in silence. “Tell me about your kingdom?” Auguste asked. 

“It was… glorious. Not perfect, not by any means, but I was quite proud of our work by the end of our lives. I think that the culture smash actually improved both Akielos and Vere, removing the most horrible parts.”

“Like slavery, you mean?”

“Yes, among others. We also got rid of the whole bastards thing here in Vere, allowing for more freedom to interact between men and women.”

“I somehow can’t imagine that. Didn’t that result in…”

“Well, we bolstered our population a lot,” Laurent chuckled. “Vask wasn’t happy about that. Thankfully that got resolved by adoption. Since we weren’t available to marry neighbouring princesses, we adopted a few children from neighbouring countries instead. And Tem was actually Damianos birth son…”

“He cheated on you?” Auguste wasn’t happy with that idea. He still struggled with his little baby brother being together with that... that giant of a man. 

“That actually happened before we were together,” Laurent chuckled. “What a bright boy Tem was. Dark as his father and always smiling.” Yet there was sadness in Laurent’s voice.

“You miss them,” Auguste remarked. 

“Yes. I doubt I will meet them in this life. Perhaps some of them, but they will be different people, as I will be.” 

“Laurent…”

“Did you know that Temujin decided to rule as king Auguste? To honor me, he said. Someone called Auguste was always fated to sit upon the throne.”

Auguste didn’t know how to react to that. In the end, he said: “They loved you very much.”

Laurent just nodded and scooted even closer. Finally, Auguste engulfed his arms around his brother.

“You know I love you as well, no matter what?”

“Even if I have memories of my past life in my head?”

“Even if you had memories of a thousand people, I would still love you, Laurent. I am glad we can spend another lifetime together.”

“Unless one of us is poisoned by figs,” Laurent laughed, but there were tears on his face.

***

She was presented to the king amongst smiles and the smell of hot wine. Music still ringed in her ears, as well as the laughter of men in the hall. 

She chose her best dress for this. Blue, tinged with golden threads, subtly accenting her hair and figure. Only light make-up, to make her lips seem more red. 

She smiled demurely in front of the king and his sons, and said nothing.

The king paid her not much attention. He was old, his beard already greying and wrinkles on his face. He seemed thin, gone the warrior and the old man replacing him instead. However, his sons were in their prime.

The older. Tall and striking, with a well-groomed beard and sharp, dark eyes. He wore a rich purple toga, expensive and well-suited to his body. Yet the effect was ruined by a pinched look on his face, bitter and unhappy.

The younger. Tall as well, but unlike his brother, wide as well. Clean-shaven, the face showing dimples well-accustomed to smiles. Dark curls danced around on his head, wild and untamed, yet appealing. His toga was simple red, suited more for an ordinary soldier than son of the king. However, the end result seemed more regal than that of his brother. Was there something in his posture? Or maybe in his honest, open face?

If she went by her heart, she knew who she would pick. But a girl must use her brain, as her mother always said.

Both brothers were watching her with interest. She could read sexual interest in the eyes of Kastor, clear as day. Damianos, however, was harder to read. 

“Lady Jokaste,” he said. “Sit next to me, will you?”

She could hardly refuse an invitation like that. Kastor snorted, whispering something about “blondes as usual” and pretended to lose interest in her, though she could still feel his eyes on her, only subtler than previously.

“How are you liking Ios so far?” Damianos asked.

“It's a beautiful city. Its white marble halls simply cannot compare to my humble home, your highness.”

“You would like to live here?”

“I am sure anyone would, my lord.” She said and wondered. Would he be that forward? Invite her to his chambers with his father and brother sitting near?

Damianos seemed to be thinking, taking a piece of meat from the table and chewing it slowly. He was unusual in his conduct, she heard. Refused to be served by slaves, revolutionary in his thinking. Some of the kyros were grumbling about his behaviour, not fitting for a future ruler of Akielos. Jokaste was hedging her bets.

“What do you think of Vere?”

Another piece of information the rumour mill has brought her. Damianos was very much interested in affairs of the neighbouring kingdom and even corresponded with the local prince.

“I heard they have quality fabrics and hope that we will start wearing sleeves, so we start buying them more, your highness,” She decided to say in the end.

Damianos chuckled at that, seemingly genuiely amused by her remark.

“Have you ever wondered about living there?”

She did not expect that. “I have not, my lord. But… I am open to new experiences,” She added quickly.

He nodded at that. “I was thinking, lady Jokaste…” Would the offer be forthcoming? Or would it be more subtle, invitation to walk around in gardens or see sea cliffs?

“Why don’t you talk to my brother? He seemed interested in you.” Damen said.

She felt like she was doused with cold water. 

“Ah. I… Yes, indeed. If your royal brother wishes it so. I.” She fumbled.

“Go, I am sure he will find you amusing.” And with that, he dismissed her.

She really wasn’t happy about that. With fury, she rose, trying to seem regal but with all eyes on her, failing.

King Theomedes sighed and shook his head, like he saw this coming but hoped for something else. His eyes weren’t the only ones she felt - a noble courtier dressed in Veretian style watched her as well, stroking his beard.

***

Laurent was more or less unchanged since their excursion in Marlas, but Aimeric felt different. He watched Laurent to catch the traces of the older man he claimed to be.

Some people might feel shame for sneaking and listening behind the doors, but Aimeric wasn’t one of them. Didn’t Laurent teach him certain sneaky tricks himself?

Time-travelling seemed like bogus to him. But… things Laurent has said…

Right now, the man in question was reading a book and eating chocolate, seemingly completely ignorant that Aimeric was having an identity crisis.

“What a friend you are,” Aimeric said at last, unable to contain himself.

“What horrible deed did I commit this time? Or have you still not forgiven me for the Marlas affair? I thought I apologized already.”

“For climbing into the fort and making me lie to the King, yes. But what about the lying part?”

Laurent raised his eyes from reading, suddenly sharp.

Aimeric felt a blush coming on his cheeks. “I… I might have listened. Behind the door.”

Laurent sighed. A bit too dramatically, if you asked Aimeric.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” Aimeric bit out.

“I actually haven’t suspected you were spying for my brother. In retrospect, being duplicitous is in your nature and I should have seen it coming.” 

Aimeric gaped like a fish and for a moment considered fleeing. When Laurent was in a mood, you didn’t want to stand in his warpath. But his curiosity was greater than his anger and his indignation.

“Come on, don’t be a dick, Laurent,” he tried. His friend sighed and put away his book. Though, were they even friends? Or did Laurent try to get closer to him because of… well. The whole past lives thing?

“I take it we weren’t that friendly in your… past life.”

“No, we weren’t, if you must know. You were my subordinate. And you betrayed me.”

“I babled to your brother?”

“My brother was dead. And I am not talking about innocent childhood antics, Aimeric.” Laurent grew serious. “You conspired to have me executed for treason.”

Aimeric didn’t expect *that*. “Wait… so I betrayed you and almost got you killed and you wanted to befriend me? Or are you planning to pull a fast one on me later?” The thought hurt. They were thick as thieves in the last few years, even if there were some bumps along the way.

“Despite my previous words, I don’t think anybody is born a traitor. You were dealt a shitty card in life and didn’t have many options. I… I was harsher in my words than I should have been. You took your own life.”

“I… I think I need a drink.” Aimeric said. “I would offer you some watered down wine as well, but I know you are boringly abstaining.”

Laurent snorted at that. 

“Okay, okay, boring stuff like death and betrayal apart.. Did I have someone? Like, you know, *someone*?”

Laurent’s face made a complicated dance of emotion for a second. Then he looked toward the place Jord and Orlant were standing, far away enough to not hear them but close enough to act if needed.

“Is this your revenge? Are you saying I shagged ORLANT?” 

“Jord, you idiot.”

“That’s not much better! He is… so old!” Aimeric protested, but couldn’t help but to draft his gaze toward Jord as well. True, Jord was older, but he had that look around him and his body wasn’t bad to look at…

“Well, you were older as well. You asked, now reap what you sow.”

“This is evil. You are evil. Now I won't be able to stop thinking about it.”

“You shouldn't have eavesdropped,” Laurent shrugged.

“Point taken.” Aimeric took a swing of the wine. 

They sat together for a while in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Then, Laurent’s face got what Aimeric privately called ‘old geezer mode’. Ironic, that he was closer to the truth than expected in this regard.

“I am glad you are in a better place now, Aimeric. And I am honored to call you my friend, past happenings notwithstanding.”

Usually, Aimeric would offer a quip or joke, but Laurent’s seriousness was catching, it seemed.

“I am glad to be here. And I… I will try to be a good and loyal friend from now on.”

“You always were. You just sometimes pick badly who to be loyal to. But… I suppose that’s something that can befall anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to finish this fic, but I cannot promise the end date. Hopefully my productivity holds! *fingers crossed*


	11. A birthday's gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some stuff about Regent and his ways, so beware.

“I am half-expecting a riot to depose me by this point,” Auguste chuckled while reading yet another report.

“Did something happen?” Laurent worriedly raised his head from his own work. Nowadays, he has been helping with chunks of administration, to make sure Auguste got his rest.

“Oh yes, another letter from a mayor thanking me for your conduct, basically kissing your feet and singing you praises. Horrible, I say.” Auguste’s humour was shining through. “Next time I am basically expecting them to say ‘oh and by the way, could Laurent rule instead?’”

“That’s not funny.” Laurent took the letter and started studying it. “I know you don’t mean it seriously, but what if someone hears you?”

Auguste looked sheepish at that.

“Auguste.. Don’t tell me you already said something like that in public.”

“I was just joking during the council once! Herode looked ready to birth kittens. But considering how he complimented you last time, I half-expected him to agree.”

“It’s not a fair comparison. You are young and still learning! And you are doing fine. You haven’t insulted any foreign dignitaries yet… “

“That's a pretty low bar, honestly. Problem is, they see you being even younger and they can’t help but compare.” Auguste raised his hand to forestall Laurent’s objections. “Yes, I know that you are actually very old but they don’t know that. They see a pretty prince who is never wrong.”

Auguste’s voice sounded more resigned than anything.

Laurent already started planning.“We can’t have that!. Some minor scandal is needed. Perhaps I can invite a bunch of prostitutes into the castle or stage a public mishap in front of the Vaskian delegation? I heard prince Torveld wants to visit, maybe I could spurn him on and then insult his beard.”

“Why his beard in particular… no, that’s not important. Laurent, I don’t want you to tarnish your own reputation in order to make me look better.”

“Then you could organize a festival, invite gladiators from Akielos, free wine… That would help your reputation!”

“I think you are a bit biased when it comes to naked Akielos wrestling, honestly,” Auguste chuckled.”Its not *that* popular here. But just to have you know, I have a devious plan on how to get rid of my poor younger brother.”

Auguste rummaged around his table and finally brought up a letter. “Ah, yes, here. I have been asked by many citizens to give you a proper big celebration of your eighteen birthday. And also people from other countries…”

“Don’t tell me?”

“Oh yes. We have been invited by King Theomedes to hold a big celebration in Akielos to bolster our relationships. And as an evil older brother, I of course agreed, barring you from basking in the glory here in our homeland…”

The rest of his sentence was silenced by a hug Laurent gave him. “We are going to Akielos?” His voice was jumping in excitement.

“Indeed. You and me both. You shall see as much of naked wrestling as your heart desires and perhaps even meet someone…”

Laurent punched his brother a bit. “I thought you still don’t like him?”

“As far as Damianos is concerned, my judgement is still not final. I shall give him the option to prove himself.”

Laurent rolled his eyes at that. “You know I will be helping him to look better in your eyes, right?”

“Oh, I would expect nothing less. But just so you know, my brother instincts might be stronger than your scheming, so don't count on it.”

Laurent shook his head fondly. “I can’t believe the council agreed to that, both of us leaving for a country which is basically enemy territory…”

“They didn’t like it very much, that’s true. But no way am I letting you go by yourself and if I went by myself, it would lose its purpose, no? Anway, I heard Akielos has many beauties to sample and I do need a little vacation. Herode and rest can handle it for a few weeks.”

“So, when are we leaving?”

“We need to prepare, so it won’t be right away. Few days at least, you know how slow the court moves sometimes… But knowing you, you should start packing right away,” Auguste grinned. “You want to look best for our neighbours!”

***

It did take several days of frantic preparation. Who is going with, what gifts to take, how to travel? Laurent was happy to leave the palace for a bit, to get a breath of fresh air.

He wore his ‘peasant garb’, the disguise he chose to get by unnoticed in the city. The most important part being the ugly cap hiding his bright blond hair. He wasn’t doing anything nefarious (this time), but with the situation of public approval… He didn’t want people to see him going there.

He was quite proud of his work, truth to be told. The house he set out to visit was new, brightly painted and well maintained. Laurent took pains to choose a staff of people who were kind and patient. And most importantly, good with children.

The inscription said “Queen Hennike’s house of Wayward and Orphaned children”. He liked to think she would like both the place and the name. 

He still wasn’t happy about the overall situation of orphaned children in his country. With the society's treatment of bastards, too many kids of unknown parentage ended up abandoned on the streets, left to fend for themselves. Unlike in Akielos, adoption didn’t have much tradition in his country. Laurent wondered if it was the connection to bastardy or the damn obsession with bloodlines here, but he wasn’t thrilled. Admittedly, while Akielos did have adoption laws, the birth children still took priority. But at least if a family adopted its heirs, they were seen as legitimate and treated as such. 

He could walk through the main door, be greeted by the matron of the place and told of all recent child’s accomplishments. They always welcomed him here, not just as a person who funded their efforts, but as someone they liked and respected. But where was fun in that? Laurent carefully scaled the windows and tumbled into the play room, which was fully occupied at this time.

Chorus of happy voices greeted him, full of excitement.

“Laurent is here!” “Prince!” “Your Highness!” Children swarmed him quickly and he gave quick hugs and ruffled hairs, even raising a few above his head.

“Don’t overwhelm him so much!” one of the voices complained and Laurent grinned.

“Being bossy as usual, Nicaise?” he asked his favourite denizen of the place. Nicaise stuck his tongue at him.

At first, he didn’t wish for the boy to end up here. He knew Nicaise did have parents, but for some reason or other, they didn’t care for their son. They agreed too easily to have their son raised elsewhere, especially when seeing shiny coins in the prince's hand. Laurent was of half mind to have them punished for this behaviour, but instead, he took the small boy’s hand and took him away. Nicaise only watched him quietly, sucking his thumb. “Will there be a lot of food there?” he asked and that was that.

At start, they tried a few placements - even a child of unknown parentage could find a place to live if the Prince was his sponsor - however Nicaise escaped every time. The families complained, calling him unruly, wild and rude. In the end, they came to an agreement - Nicaise would stay in the orphanage until he was old enough to become Laurent’s page. He didn’t want to hear about any other profession or occupation, being glued to his prince every time Laurent came to visit. He was more independent lately, claiming to be almost grown up now, yet Laurent could still feel his constant gaze.

Laurent gave away a huge bag of sweets and children started raiding it, their attention occupied. 

“I am too old for this now,” Nicaise said.

“Are you now?” Laurent gave him a piece of caramel and Nicaise snatched it, stuffing his mouth quickly. His face was pouting, making an adorable image as he was trying to chew the caramel.

“Why are you here? You always visit later in the week…”

“I won’t be able to visit you for some time. I am leaving for Akielos,” Laurent explained.

“Take me with you?” Nicaise said, putting on his best doe eyes. 

For a moment, Laurent considered it. Akielos was a bright place and he was sure Nicaise would enjoy traveling. However… *He* was still there. One horrible part of Laurent’s mind turned the thought over. Nicaise was of age where he would be most interesting to *him* and he would certainly be willing to help Laurent. How easy it would be to catch Regent into trap? 

But another part of his mind pushed back the thought immediately. To put Nicaise into this position, when Laurent did everything he could to help him avoid it this time. He saw the head, bloody and ashen, eyes unmoving, in his memory. 

No, never. They would take *him* down another way.

“Maybe next time, how about that?” Laurent smiled and ruffled Nicaise’s hair.

“I am not a kid anymore…” Nicaise complained. 

“So that means you don’t want to see my new coin trick? And here I was sooo excited to show you…”

“No, no, show me please!”

Laurent laughed and soon he was surrounded by a gang of children again, screaming in excitement and happiness.

***

The visit to the orphanage brightened his mood, even if he was scolded by the matron later, for coming through the window and spoiling the children again. She was smiling as she said that, so she wasn’t that angry, he supposed.

But the one dark spot on his joy was the thought of *him* again. Laurent worked hard. He made sure to remove his supporters from power, establish his own agents and his narrative. There were less of them this time - Auguste was the rightful ruler, still popular despite his words about deposing him. He was more conservative than Laurent was during his time as a king, trying to appease both the populace and nobles. There was nobody to complain about his lack of military duty or his relationship with certain Akielon princes. Yes, there was grumbling, but it was the usual grumbling which came with change of power, not the one of society near the collapse and ready to storm the castle and orchestrate a defenestration. And unlike the last time, there was no obvious person to give the power too. Oh, he did catch a wind of plot to remove Auguste and put Laurent in charge instead, controlling the young prince as a puppet. These nobles weren’t even working for Regent, just for their own gains, unhappy about some taxation or another. They quickly abandoned the idea when they realized just how uncontrollable Laurent was. The fact that Laurent sent them subtle threats probably didn’t hurt either. But apart from that… No obvious moves or changes in court, no whispers of gaining power.

It gave Laurent time and opportunity to be methodical and careful in his approach towards the former Regent’s power base. Some of *his* supporters were easy to bribe or persuade, especially now that their mastermind was away. Others Laurent had to discredit, orchestrate their fall from public grace and remove their positions and holding. And few… Well, few ended up with a dagger while they slept. Govart tripped on the stairs and broke his neck, drunk as a skunk, at least that's what the local guard established when they found him.

But some things were also missing, like the certain letter with admission of guilt. There was no easy proof this time, no handy writing with whispers of treason. Laurent supposed the world didn’t want to make it too easy on him. Paschal’s brother, the one who let the arrow lose last time, was confused when the prince questioned him and Laurent never did find the other soldier who did the deed. Or was it orchestrated at all? Perhaps Aleron fell to a true Akielon arrow this time.

As it was, they still had a viper in their midst and no way of removing him, leaving Laurent with a bitter taste in his mouth. In the darkest of nights, alone in his thoughts, he seriously considered sending a quiet assassin to just end it all. End this fear and uncertainty. And on one hand, it would be easy. Perhaps too easy… Yet even the best assassins could be traced and Laurent could ill afford to be involved in a plot to murder his blood relation, especially when everyone considered his uncle to be a harmless scholary man. Such death would not be easily dismissed like deaths of monsters like Govart, who were not liked by anybody and not significant in any way. Theomedes would likely use all of his resources to resolve this, fearing diplomatic calamity. It made sense, since Laurent could easily see certain people on the Veretian Council to push for war again. Oh, they weren’t supporters of his uncle, and Laurent checked thoroughly. But war or another conflict would serve their own interests and Laurent could already hear their voices clamoring in fake indignation at this “Akielon betrayal”. Auguste’s position still wasn’t secure enough to go against them fully and Laurent was sure that another conflict would destroy both countries. Not that it mattered to certain people in charge - they only cared for money and gold the war could bring, new territories, slaves… And as much as he liked Makedon and his ilk, he knew how much the old dog would jump at opportunity to murder some Veretians again, especially at this point of time. And he wasn’t alone - too many of Kyroi were of similar mind. How ironic, that in certain aspects, Vere and Akielos weren’t different at all.

Damen assured him in his letters that he had a plan in mind and that he was slowly working on it, but Laurent couldn't help but be worried. Damianos got better at sneaky thinking in his later years, he was still transparent though and *he* was smart and crafty. Even other Laurent’s agents in Akielos (Damen was woefully unobservant sometimes and Laurent needed more eyes) didn’t catch any moves on *his part*, no whispers in the dark or talks to powerful people. They did report that Jokaste and Kastor started sleeping together, but Damen asked him not to interfere in this matter and so Laurent stayed his hand.

At least this visit gave them an opportunity to finally do something. He would just have to check Auguste’s goblets very carefully, to avoid any possible poisons. That could turn the visit sour very, very quickly.


	12. They are watching

“Could you stop looking like a puppy who is waiting for a bone. It's pissing me off, honestly,” Kastor growled at Damen. They were both sitting at their horses, awaiting the Veretian delegation. At least Kastor sounded less grumpy than usual, Damen supposed. Regular sex with a beautiful person did that for you. Jokaste was sitting not too far away, being fanned by a slave and eating figs with carefully feigned disinterest. She picked robes in colors between blue and purple this time, probably to make a point whose bed she was spending most of time in.

Damen sighed. It wasn’t easy for him, lately.

“I am not looking like a puppy… Honestly, what's up with these comparisons?”

“Try to be a little regal, at least,” Kastor added snidely. 

“I would have thought Pater has enough regality for both of us,” Damen pointed out. He could feel Themodes rolling his eyes in front of them.

“You are both men, yet you squabble like a pair of chickens,” their father grumbled. “This way, the Veretian delegation will think we are only barbarians here in Akielos…”

“They already think that, pater,” Kastor pointed out. “We don’t wear pants and our food actually has a taste and they can’t get over that.”

“Quiet, they can almost hear us.” Theomedes gave Kastor a look. “They can certainly speak Akielon better than you can speak Veretian, so watch your tongue. And you, Damen, at least watch your face. You really are too transparent.”

“He just can’t contain his excitement over the blonde delegation almost upon us,” Kastor whispered. 

“Like you can talk,” Damen whispered back and gave a nudge towards Jokaste.

“Quiet, I said,” Theomedes said and they fell silent at last.

The Veretian group decided to make a point in their dressing. Damen had to admire their dedication, if not their practicality. Akielos was hot almost any time of the year and they must be sweating like pigs in their get ups. Despite this, Auguste managed to look noble. This time, he didn’t wear his armour, likelly to establish this was a diplomatic mission of peace. The golden crown on his head shone in the rays of sunlight. And, yes, there, closely following him was another blonde head on a beautiful white stallion. 

Damen could feel his heart speed up. Controlling his face was impossible at this point, even if he felt his father’s eyes upon him and Kastor’s quiet snickering.

Finally, finally they were close enough now. Damen could see the red of Laurent’s white cheeks, unaccustomed to Akielon’s sun once again. Laurent’s mouth was in a severe line, but Damen could see in his eyes that he was containing laughter as well. 

“Our brother of Vere,” Theomedes boomed, his gravelly voice carrying. 

“Our brother of Akielos,” Auguste echoed, his voice sure and bright. Such a difference compared to that fateful conversation in the tent on the battlefield. 

“I welcome you into my country and hope the peace between us is long-lasting.”

“I accept your invitation and pray for the long and blessed relationship between Akielos and Vere.”

The kings both nodded at each other, young and old, light and dark, a study in contrast.

“I see no reason to stand at the ceremony, for your group is surely tired and parched,” Theomedes said. “Let us rest and revel, for this purpose we have met.”

“Indeed,” Auguste said and motioned for his retainers.

They entered the city.

***

It took another terribly frustrating hour before the feast was set up and everyone was settled. Damen could only exchange looks with Laurent, trapped in the conventions of hospitality. There were speeches and toasts and long-winded talks about the future. Auguste was a picture of politeness and Laurent stood quietly at his side, ever the loyal brother. Only when Auguste said “to let the princes find their own fun, I am sure they don’t want to listen to the elders talk about political matters” was Laurent released. 

Kastor made a face at the suggestion that he was a young prince and that he should provide entertainment for the “blond whelp”, as he put it. Once they were from the earshot of their father, he said: “Damen, surely you two are closer in age, no? Go do… I don’t know what you do.”

“Oh, I have prepared a cultural introduction for prince Laurent,” Damen said, trying to keep his face blank. 

“Right. However you want to call it. Just shoo shoo. Grown-ups talking, that sort of thing.” 

Damen didn’t point out that he was an adult as well (even counting his regular years, not including his time-travel) and took the opportunity, leaving Kastor to his wine.

They slipped as quickly as they could, meeting at their usual place in Ios palace, where they spent a lot of moments in the past.

It was a moment of bright joy. They both smiled like fools, finally able to show it on their faces. Only a few moments and finally, finally Damen had Laurent in his arms. The familiar smell almost brought tears to his eyes. How he longed for this, the feeling of rightness, of home and familiarity. “I missed you, terribly,” he whispered.

“I did as well,” said Laurent and nudged his nose.They embraced for a while, lost in their little own world, where only two of them existed. 

“So, what does this cultural introduction include?” Laurent asked with a mischievous grin.

“Laurent, we can’t have sex during a feast!” Damen protested, feeling his cheeks heat.

“I don’t see why not, we did it plenty of times in the past…” Damen could see that Laurent was mostly teasing him and had no actual plan of seducing him right here and now, but he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed anyway.

“Yes, but back then we could only be caught by Nik! I don’t want to face my father and explain how I managed to seduce a barely mature Veretian prince during one hour… Not to mention your brother.”

At Damen’s slightly panicked look, Laurent snorted and let him go. “You are no fun,” he pouted. “Here I am, suffering, without your love and hands, and you are bothered by propriety… You Akielons, always so stuffy for people who prance around naked! At least a kiss for your neglected husband?”

In response, Damen took him in his arms again and their lips finally found each other. They lost the sense of time amongst the touches, desperately seeking each other’s mouths again and again, breathing heavily. Soon, Laurent was red not from the sun, but from the exertion, and Damen was grinning like a madman. 

“Did I mention I missed you?” Damen said again.

“You did. But I like hearing it. Again and again.” Laurent replied and sought out Damen’s lips once more, biting savagely. “I can’t be the only one looking ravaged,” he said with satisfaction.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind them. Someone breathing out in shock, high and feminine.

“Who is it?” Damen shouted as they sprang apart. They quickly surveyed their surroundings, but there were no shadows nor sounds of breathing. The intruder was gone, like she was never there. 

Laurent frowned. “Who was she, do you think? A servant?”

“A slave would announce themselves.. Perhaps one of the feast quests,” Damen said, his voice worried. 

“My mind is immediately supplying a name,” Laurent said, grimly. “Guess I will have to let you know when I receive a blackmail note over breakfast.”

“She wouldn’t,” Damen replied automatically. 

“I know you are staunchingly loyal, Damen, but do you have to be towards people who betrayed you previously? I thought I untaught you that tendency.”

“I just think it's a bit unfair to judge people by their past behaviour. Jokaste didn’t do anything in our time here.”

Laurent sighed. “Fine, fine. Let’s go back. We can continue… this… later.”

“In your rooms or mine?”

Laurent stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Mine are probably better. The only one entering would be Auguste and well… he is aware of our activities.”

“Oh yes. He sent me at least one letter explaining how he would harm my private parts in detail if I broke your heart.”

“He did?”

Damen launched into the story as they discreetly slipped back, their absence unnoticed. But at least one pair of eyes followed their return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter chapter, but I hope you like it anyway. You have a big storm coming, Damen, Laurent...


	13. Hiding in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still writing this fic! I didn't forget about it! I might even finish it this year! (if muses are merciful...)

“Marvelous. I see that you got the best quest chambers, despite me being a king,” Auguste sighed and lounged on a settee in Laurent’s room.

“Yours are larger,” Laurent pointed out, still fighting with the laces on his clothes. It was quite an amusing sight - like Laurent almost forgot how Veretian laces worked, due to the fact he chose not to wear them most of the time. Auguste insisted on them for this visit, though. It wasn’t just because they all needed to present in the best Veretian fashion. Auguste noted with a grim satisfaction their main purpose worked during the feast. No way anyone was sneaking off for a quick tumble in hay in that.

“Yes, yes, and elegant. But these were decorated with a personal touch.” 

He hoped for a blush but Laurent raised his eyebrow at him in a “well, obviously” motion.

Auguste sighed again. He could hardly voice it aloud, but sometimes he missed his baby younger brother, innocent and joyful. He still loved his brother - how could he not - but there were too many reminders that the man standing in front of him wasn’t actually freshly eighteen. It was perhaps selfish though, yet he wished he could have seen Laurent’s first forays into love, first milestones and mishaps, first… Well. Instead, he got a man fully formed. Man who saw more of life than Auguste did. How do you parent someone older than you?

He even felt a bit childish for standing in a way of Laurent’s romance. This wasn’t a crush on an inappropriate person, the one he could talk Laurent out of. This was… something else. Connection he couldn’t touch. And at moments, Auguste felt like he was replaced in his brother’s heart by another. He knew it was absurd, of course - Laurent still loved him. So yes, he was maybe a bit pouty about the whole thing. 

Damianos wasn’t actually a bad person, as far as Auguste could tell. He was polite and despite his appearance, not a brutish man. And yet… yet…

“I feel a bit sorry for him,” Auguste said, still sitting and ignoring Laurent’s pointed looks.

“Who?”

“Prince Damianos. His arms must be getting quite a workout.”

“What?” Laurent appeared confused by his words.

“I can see the top of his head. Perhaps if he was a bit smaller, it would be less noticeable.”

Auguste pointed to the window, where Damianos was obviously hiding, hanging by his hands.

Laurent blushed furiously. It was a bit endearing that he could still make his brother redden, even with the whole ‘I am actually an old man inside’.

“Well, come on up, prince Damianos. I promise I don’t bite.”

Auguste would never admit it aloud, but he couldn’t help but feel impressed by the way Damianos’ muscles bulged. The prince pushed himself up effortlessly, despite the fact he must have been perching on the windowsill for some time. 

“Your Majesty,” Damianos inclined his head.

“I thought we agreed that you will go through official channels only, Damianos?” Auguste said, leaving out the title deliberately. He added a bit of glower and showed his teeth.

For his efforts, he was rewarded by a pillow thrown to his face. Akielon decorative pillows were much harder than the Veretian ones, Auguste found. It hurt, since Laurent’s aim was impeccable.

“Oh, stop it, brother. You well know I invited him here,” Laurent scowled, unimpressed.

“Ye-es, that’s why I insisted on staying here. Did you know, Damianos, that the tradition dictates the royal family of Vere must consummate their marriages in front of the Council?”

Instead of a flustered reaction, Damianos gave him a flat look.

“... I am aware.”

“Don’t be a bother, Auguste,” Laurent rolled his eyes. “We are not planning to have sex. I need to talk to him.”

It was Auguste’s turn to look unimpressed. Laurent probably wasn’t lying, but then, Auguste also spotted them emerging from the alcove during the feast, both looking flushed and the only thing protecting Laurent’s modesty were the numerous laces. Whatever their minds have planned, sometimes bodies and hearts spoke much more loudly.

“I sure hope not, in front of your own brother!”

“King Auguste,” Damianos said, his voice serious. “On my honor, that me and Laurent only plan to talk.”

“Look. I don’t care if you do… “ (he did care, actually, but he had a feeling that sentiment would not go down well with Laurent, who was already bristling again) “but we must at least keep some semblance of propriety. There are ears and eyes everywhere.”

“Naturally,” Damen said. “That’s why I didn’t go through the doors. But through the window.” Like it was obvious and Auguste was a bit slow on the uptake.

“Are you telling me nobody in the whole palace saw you?”

“No. They are not looking for such behaviour. They have no idea me and Laurent talk to each other.”

Auguste floundered at that a bit. He was fairly sure that king Theomedes knew - he made several… weird remarks in official correspondence about his son and his preference for blondes. And while he hated to admit it, his uncle still sent him monthly reports of comings and goings in the Ios palace. It was valuable intelligence, even if it soured Auguste’s mood every time he opened it, and it confidently stated that the Akielon court had some inkliking Damianos was interested in Veretian royalty more than was appropriate.

“But…”

“Oh, they will be watching your window, though,” Laurent said, unable to hide his amusement.

“What?! But… but I don’t even prefer men! I can’t believe…. And you let them think that?”

They both shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter what the court thinks,” Damianos said. “What matters is the truth.”

“And I admit, it worked in our favour so far,” Laurent added. “If our uncle wants to believe Damen carries an unrequired torch for you and acts irrational because of itl, who am I to stop him?”

Auguste was left speechless by this admission. Then he threw up his hands.

“Fine. Fine, I will let you plot alone. But I will whack anyone who approaches my window during the night.”

Damen laughed at that, like it wasn’t his habit to climb around the palace, and Auguste made to leave.

***

On his way to the royal chambers, Auguste met someone he managed to avoid during the visit, until now. His uncle looked… same as ever. Groomed beard, charismatic presence. His clothes were more adjusted for Akielon climate than the usual Veretian fare, but they were still undisputedly Veretian.

“My royal nephew,” he smiled and Auguste had to squash an urge to punch him.

“Uncle. How good to see you.” It was not.

“Were you saying good night to Laurent?”

“We talked.”

The man in front of him nodded, like Auguste just told him a long and elaborate explanation and not barely two words. 

“I can assure you, my king, that I am still loyal to Vere. I am working to ensure our kingdom stays strong in the upcoming times.”

“And your loyalty is appreciated,” Auguste said, with all his self-control. 

“I am just worried that certain… unruly elements might plan to upset our growing alliance with Akielos. While Theomedes seems committed, his sons, I am less sure about.”

Auguste hated to agree with him, he really did. It naturally wasn’t the younger prince he was worried about - for all the time traveling weirdness, he believed Damianos was honest in his intentions. But Kastor gave him unpleasant looks the whole dinner, bordering on hostility and that did not bore well, if Damianos planted to step away from succession. 

“I am sure this visit will help smooth out any differences in opinion they might have,” Auguste said, at last. “And Theomedes is quite healthy for his age, he won’t be giving up his throne any time soon.”

“Unless someone helps him along, in hopes of starting a war,” uncle said, mirthlessly. “There are players who would love to see someone else on the throne, sooner than later.”

Auguste stared at him, unsure what to make of that remark. Was that a threat? A warning? Was the man truly concerned about the fate of Vere or was it just his political maneuvering?

“Well, I won’t take anymore of your time, I am sure you are tired,” his uncle said, politely inclining his head.

“Right. Good night then,” Auguste said. His night would be anything but good, it seemed, with the amount of worries coming his way.

***

She half-expected it, but still, she hoped she would find him in his chambers, sleeping deeply. But it was not to be. His bed was cold, braziers unlit and the room empty. 

It stuck in her throat, like a too dry piece of fruit, with no water to quench it in sights. He refused her before, both in words and actions, yet she still hoped... But it seemed the rumours were true.

She could not escape it. She needed to see it with her own eyes.

Nobody stopped her when she glided to the quest chambers, the guards long accustomed to pretty ladies in dresses, sent to entertain foreign visitors. They didn't look at her face, and if pressed, they would perhaps recall her pretty figure in dress or her bright hair - but not who she was.

She was quiet as a mouse. She was good at that, knowing when to keep silent and when to speak. Not that it helped her to turn Damianos' head.

She peaked inside the first room and found only one sleeper there, his face scrunched in some sort of nightmare or worry. The second door brought her success - or the confirmation of defeat.

Damianos slept soundly, curled around the blonde head peeking from the covers. It was worse than she imagined. That wasn't a sleep of a conqueror, who brough another prize to its knees, ready for a new prey tomorrow. It was the sleep of lovers, content with their closeness, basking in mutual love and care.

She couldn't contain her tears. 

She took a moment to compose herself, leaving as quickly and soundlessly as she left. A new resolve strenghtened in her heart.

She hoped to avoid it, but there was no other way now. Not if she wanted to save Akielos.


End file.
